


Deer Teeth

by sanrier



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Monster Falls, Bill is an asshole, Blood and Gore, Deerper, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human!Bill, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Mental Instability, Other, Stockholm Syndrome, WELL MAYBE STOCKHOLM SYNDROME like im not ruling it out, like a supreme asshole, well maybe lima syndrome you know how it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanrier/pseuds/sanrier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper's casual stroll in an unfamiliar neck of the woods is unwelcomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay first: this is literally my first written work like ever, give it a shot I guess, I plan on getting better! As for the story: positive and negative interactions between Bill and Dipper. No sexual intimacy (or anything related probably) Takes place probably a few years later than the TV series I don't know I didn't really think about age. Monster Falls / Hunter AU. Visuals for human Bill/Deerper: http://i.imgur.com/H6CWvG6.jpg

 

At least the forest as Dipper had experienced it was a calm place. The threat of danger died down overtime allowing him to concentrate more on the tasks at hand: finding out how to undo the curse that had turned him and the rest of his family into monsters, and finding out the cause for this happening. Before he could gather his thoughts on the matter, before he and the rest of them had started adjusting to the changes, he most focused on survival, wondering if these changes would have shifted the family's places in the food chain. This must have been months ago, and the fear of predators had came and went. If anything, the change would have been an improvement to Dipper's defense as he was able to outrun most anything he wouldn't have had the chance to outrun as a human. He hoped he wouldn't have to test that theory against coyotes or wolves- but the forest as Dipper had experienced it was a calm place, void of any natural predators to him. 

_Snap._

Dipper had felt something pull his back left leg back and up off the ground, throwing him off balance and causing him to buckle under his own weight. There was no pain, and the pulling sensation had stopped when he had stopped moving. Perhaps in denial that it was anything but his clumsiness causing him to trip and fall over, he adjusted himself and attempted to get back up. He felt the pull on his leg again and realized something wasn't right. Trying to maintain his composure and careful not to send himself into a fit of animal-like panic, for a moment he was reluctant to turn around and see what he had caught his leg in. Once he registered again that there was no pain and that he was okay, he took a deep breath turned and looked to see what his leg was stuck in.

"Oh god," he said as he exhaled.  
  
A steel loop was fit firmly around his shank. Leading from the loop was a cable leading to a nearby tree. The cable was fastened around the tree trunk, about two feet above the ground, with a small amount of leeway that would let the cable rotate freely around the tree. Atop the lowest branch on the formidably sized tree was a piece of neon orange fabric, sloppily tied in place as if to serve as a signal or reminder.  
  
"Who would be _hunting_?"  
  
As Dipper registered what had happened he had sent himself into a panic. Instinctively trying to get away from the danger, he made one more attempt to run away hoping he could free himself in the process. The loop on his flank tightened once more and he realized any more restraint and it could wind up hurting afterall. It's just a snare trap, it's designed to tighten as the animal struggles to get away. But Dipper was not an animal and his fleeting cervid instincts had given way to clear thought.  
  
He moved himself toward the tree a little bit, hoping the loop would loosen on its own. This wasn't the case, but at t least ceasing to pull on the wire at least meant that the loop would not tighten any more than it already had. He laid down on his side so he could get a better look at the trap. Some snare traps could be loosened to release what they trapped- these traps were meant to be re-usable and could be taken off on purpose but not by accident. Some animals would be lucky enough to get one stuck around their muzzle and struggle enough that death by suffocation was relatively quick and painless. Other less fortunate animals would suffer a lesser fate, and would simply be stuck to starve to death, or struggle until the hunter found them and put them out of their misery, or possibly be eaten by other predators. Dipper was no animal, and knowing he wouldn't partake in either of these fates help put his mind at ease so he could focus on freeing himself unharmed. The tree he was bound to was on a barely distinguishable path that he had been following. He then realized that he could have been angry at whoever set the trap, but the thought never crossed his mind. He wondered if the unfortunate animals that found themselves snared ever thought the same thing. This was all a passing thought, and contemplating it did not make him feel anger towards the hunter responsible. He was not an animal and did not need to act like one.  
  
Examining the loop as he laid carefully on his side, he confirmed it could not be loosened but only tightened. It was far beyond being able to slip off, and he feared any attempt to do so would only tighten it. He stood up and examined the tree he was tethered to.  
  
While not the same tightening mechanism that was around his leg, the trap could not be undone from the tree without cutting the tree down or cutting the wire, and given the size of the tree that was not a feasible option for someone without the proper tools. This left only the option of having the cable cut, and that meant waiting for the hunter, or perhaps anyone at all, to free him. Since the tree was marked, it was safe to assume this part of the woods did not belong to one sole individual. Ultimately, this meant waiting for someone to find him and help him, preferably sooner rather than later, preferably before it got dark. While he'd not seen any animals that were above him on the food chain, he knew well that there was a first time for everything, and he was in unfamiliar territory. Territory that did not belong to him. He had went quite far away from home this time, exploring his surroundings and trying to eliminate the possibility that anything in the forest posed any real threat to him.  
This is harder to do when you're a strapped to a tree with no real defenses.  
  
The relative peace of mind of knowing he merely had to wait for help was short lived as it turned dark, and the possibility of someone coming by to help would exponentially decrease as time went on. Not seeing a wolf during the day was drastically different than the possibility of them running the forest at night. This was the reason Dipper did not cry for help, while he wasn't sure if predators would be drawn to the cries of a distressed voice, he didn't want to take chances. All he knew he could do was wait silently, terrified, knowing his fate was in the hands of whoever found him.  
  
The relative silence of te forest did not ease his mind at all, and it made the odd noise more frightening than it should have been. A small herd of deer had at one point walked by, saw Dipper and turned their walk into a sprint, tails raised. Dipper felt contentedness in the fact these animals saw him as a threat. An extra pair of legs didn't suddenly make him any less human and any validation of that was oddly satisfying. Though he had no intent to pose a threat, for his safety he would rather be feared than seen as an equal to simple forest animals.  
  
It was the between the beginning and middle of Autumn, and though Dipper could not keep track of the time out here, he figured he had about ten dark hours to survive through before the crack of dawn. As the evening went on he would try to pass time by napping, but between being woken up by even the quietest noise (probably for the best) and his own thoughts getting the best of him, it proved to be a bad strategy. This was undeniably the longest night of his life, being held captive in a forest by his own carelessness and being unable to speak or make noise out of fear for his own safety. Then the thought of Stan and Mabel sunk in and that they might be worried about his failure to come home. Part of him hoped that someone was looking for him, but part of him hoped they stayed home and out of harm's way. The likelihood of them travelling this far out was unlikely, especially for Mabel.  
  
Some time passed and as Dipper exhausted most of the intrusive negative thoughts from his head, he was able to sink into the leaves and make himself comfortable for a while. He figured he'd feel a renewed sense of safety as the sun came up, despite the nighttime as he knew it posing no real threat to him.  
  
Eventually daylight started to give way very faintly and very slowly. Usually this was accompanied by the awakening of birds, which would lead to the awakening of the rest of the forest. This did not seem to be the case, as no birds sang and aside from the occasional squirrel or chipmunk, it stayed as quiet as the nighttime. Perhaps it was still too early, and Dipper's desperate desire for sunlight tricked his senses into thinking it was lighter than it was. Either way, the lack of noise didn't register as a cause for alarm, and the faint daylight washed him with a feeling of calm that made it hard for him to get up; though the feeling was welcome, since he had been unable to get rest of any kind all night.  
  
The relaxation was short lived as Dipper heard distinct, heavy footsteps. These would have been dimissed as a deer's, or an animal of similar size, but the footsteps were far too spread apart. They were definitely the footsteps of two feet, a human, someone who could help him. On the off chance he was wrong, he decided to remain fairly quiet, since the footsteps were growing nearer regardless. The cervitaur had a hightened sense of sound and his ears were far more sensitive than his human form's and for once, this was a blessing and not a curse. Still sunk into the leaves, he listened carefully as the footsteps grew closer. The stranger was in Dipper's sights now.  
  
From the direction Dipper was heading prior to his entrapment approached calmly a man with tan complexion, dressed for cold weather in an olive coloured parka, black trousers and black dress shoes- an unfitting choice for someone who is wandering in a potentially dangerous forest, unless you knew what the forest had to offer and were accustomed to it. He had multiple canvas bags of different dull colors slung over his shoulder. He donned a mustard coloured scarf covering his neck and mouth. A rifle was strapped to the man's side insecurely, and it bounced around a bit as he walked. If it were not for the rifle, the man would have looked more like a hiker than a hunter. He had a paper coffee cup in his right hand, with steam escaping from the lid. He rubbed his eye with his free hand, seeming like he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Given the time of day, this wasn't surprising. Dipper saw the man before the man saw him, but the man locked eyes with him not short after.  
"Thank god," Dipper said as the man continued to walk towards him. "I've been trapped here all night!"  
  
He gestured to the fabric signal wrapped around the tree's branch. "Is this yours? I mean, is this your trap? I mean, I'm not mad that this happened and it's totally my fault that I set it off, but I don't know how to free myself and I've been stuck here all night. You have something you can clip this off with, right? I really need to get home before my family is worried." Dipper gestured to himself. "Glad you didn't shoot on site, I was scared for a minute there. Don't worry, I'm not hurt, but as you can see, I'm no animal."  
  
The hunter was a fair two feet taller than Dipper, but would have rivaled his height prior to the accident - perhaps even been a bit shorter. The hunter placed his coffee on the ground and bent down a small bit to meet the anxious cervitaur at eye level. Any trace of fatigue had left the hunter. He raised his eyebrows with disbelief as he stared at Dipper, glancing back and forth between the human and deer halves of him. He lowered his scarf from his mouth and then cracked a wide grin, as if he couldn't believe what he saw, as if it were too good to be true. There was an unsettling look of madness in his eyes. The hunter's lack of immediate compliance with Dipper's request to free him sent him into a quiet and frenzied panic. The man was clearly contemplating possibilities other than letting him free, and all of these other alternate possibilities hit Dipper like a freight train. Perhaps he would have been better off tightening the grip on the snare and severing off his numb leg to escape.  
Dipper's voice cracked as he tried to convey a desperate plea to the hunter without crying.  
  
"I really, _really_ need to go." Dipper tried to maintain his cool composure and held eye contact with the hunter, afraid of being afraid, and afraid of showing fear. The hunter stood up again, cheerfully swiveled around to face away from Dipper, smacking himself in the face before turning around again. This man was clearly not in his right mind. The look in his eyes as he examined the trapped cervitaur was borderline psychotic. Finally the hunter spoke, and the manner of speech matched the madness in his eyes.  
"I've got to be dreaming. This?" He gestured widely to the horrified certivaur with both hands. The familiar sound of the hunter's voice immediately twisted Dipper's stomach into a knot and his last meal nearly made its way back out the way it came in. His ears dropped and any power he had left fled his body as he shook with fear. It seems the cervid instincts were taking over now as even at the worst of times, Dipper hadn't been this scared of him before.  
  
"Bill, no. Please." Dipper looked the hunter in the eyes and tried to plea with him. The hunter did not meet his gaze but instead eyed the horrified cervitaur up and down, like some sort of grand prize he'd just been handed. Inside, he had instantly regretted calling the hunter by name. Admitting he knew who the hunter was might have been a bad idea, he could have played clueless, perhaps Bill didn't recognize the captured cervitaur was Dipper. He wasn't lucky enough for this to be the case, and it was too late anyway. The hunter seemed too preoccupied to hear Dipper's frantic pleas. Whistling a cheerful tune, he swung the bags off of his shoulder, kneeled down and placed them in front of him, opening one and rummaging through it trying to find something.  
  
"Here we go!" He pulled out a switchblade, ejected the knife and held it into the air to examine it. It was plenty light out now, and the blade reflected the sun's rays. It was still quiet in the forest compared to the more parts that Dipper was more familiar with. Perhaps the forest was as scared of the hunter as Dipper was. Bill looked at the certivaur cheerfully, waiting for a signal of approval that he wasn't going to get. Dipper lost it at the sight of the blade, trying to get on all fours while backing up, not letting his eyes off of the blade. Fear had caused him to forget he was still captive, and his efforts to get away from the hunter were in vain as the hunter closed in on him. The cable had reached his limit, the loop around his flank was tight enough to dig into his flesh, though this was the least of his worries now.  
  
"I don't want to die," Dipper tried pleaing with the hunter. He was in full hysterics now, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face. He folded in on himself, bracing himself for the worst. "I'm not ready to die. I don't want to die."  
  
"No one's ever ready to die, kid," The hunter dropped his bags at Dipper's side, then sat down beside him. He grabbed the cervitaur's shaking wrists with one hand and pulled them behind him, holding them there with one hand, rummaging through his bag with the other. Dipper was physically unable to put up a fight, was unable to open his eyes out of fear of what he'd see. "It's destiny. I mean, it was meant to be! An animal, a hunter.. not just any hunter mind you, I mean it's you and me, kid. And you... oh, there it is!" He lifted a sizable roll of duct tape out of his bag and tore off as long of a strip as he could with his teeth.  
  
"I'm not an animal. You know I'm not an animal, Bill." His voice cracked as he struggled to sob out another plea to the hunter. Paying him no mind, the hunter bent his arms behind his back, bounding them together with a liberal amount of tape. He admired his own handiwork and chuckled.  
  
"If you're not an animal, then you were tresspassing. Trespassing on my property. And I need to defend my property," He pondered for a second, as if thinking of all the choices that had opened up to him this morning.  
  
"You know it's not as bad as you think," He looked at his blade as if unsatisfied with it. He chucked it back into his bag and unsheathed his rifle from the buckle keeping it on his side, examining it carefully, looking down the barrel, making sure it was loaded. "I think getting that tape off would be a fate worse than death. You're getting the better end of the deal!" Dipper kept his eyes tight shut as he couldn't bare to look at what was going on. Maybe his death would take him by surprise. Maybe the hunter would aim right between the eyes and make it quick for him.  
  
"Open your eyes, kid. I want you to get a long, hard look at me. I'm going to be the last thing you see before you die-"  
  
"God no, please no. Bill, please-"  
  
"I said look at me." The hunter stood up with his rifle in hand.  
  
Dipper opened his eyes. The first and only thing he saw was the rifle.  
  
"No, no no no no no. Oh no. _Please_ -"  
  
"Look me in the eyes, kid."  
  
For the first time, they locked eyes. Dipper feared what would happen if he looked away. He couldn't look away. He was looking at inevitable death.  
  
"It's the circle of life, kid," Bill talked to him like he was explaining the concept of death to a child who had lost their first pet. His gaze switched to one of Dipper's antlers, and he ran his finger down it, admiringly. "Say, did these grow overtime or were they always there? They're awfully nice..."  
  
" _I don't want to die_." It's all he could say.  
  
"And you know what I don't want, kid? I don't want a certain animal to go about his life trying to change everything back to the way it was. I don't want to go back to not existing." His words were powerful. They were angry. "But no one ever thinks about what I might want, do they?"  
  
He tossed the rifle into the leaves a short distance away.  
  
"If you want to go back to having two legs so badly, I can arrange that for you." He kneeled down, grabbed a boning knife out of the side of his bag and grabbed the certivaur's hind leg- the one that wasn't caught in the snare. Dipper, more horrified than before, tried kicking him away to no avail. His grip was firm. He didn't wait for Dipper to react or beg him not to do it. The knife started parting fur, skin, and flesh. Blood permeated the fur surrounding the cut. Down to the bone the blade went. Dipper screamed out in agony as the pain flooded his entire leg, gasping for air, unable to see clearly. In his struggle he didn't realize the hunter had stopped.  
  
"You aren't as excited as I imagined you would be! I'm just trying to help a good friend out..." He patronized the cervitaur.  
  
"I won't change you back," Dipper choked out an almost inaudible hiss of a plea to the hunter, who was examining his nearly severed leg, running his thumb down the inside of the cut fondly, as if calmly pondering something. The pain from this rivaled the initial cut itself.  
  
"I won't change you back. I'm sorry. I won't change you back."  
  
"Well, how do I know that?" The hunter continued stroking the open wound. Blood had stained the majority of the leg now, as well as the earth under it. He was careful not to get any of it on his clothes. "I mean, that's the risk of, say, letting you live. What do I gain, as a human being, by letting a stupid animal live?"  
  
"I promise I won't do it, Bill. I won't change you back. I won't make us go back to how we used to be," He didn't know how to reason with the Hunter.  
  
"What do you have to offer me, kid? Tell it to me straight. I could mount your head over my fireplace. I could skin you-"  
  
"I'm sorry. Please let me live. I'm sorry for tresspassing."  
  
"I wonder if there're any bears left out here! That'd be something else, kid. How do you feel about being live bait? I don't think the creatures out there know how to bargain like I do. You think some starving animal's going to show up and spare you because you asked it nicely? You think an animal is going to take pity on you?"  
  
"I'll do anything, Bill. I'm sorry. Tell me what I can do."  
  
Bill looked to be contemplating Dipper's words.  
  
"Alright kid," He said, going through his bags once more. This time he pulled out a pair of pliers. Carefully, he stretched Dipper's captured leg out so the wire would relax a little. He slipped the pliers around the steel loop and effortlessly clipped it off, examined the certivaur's parted fur and slightly calloused shank, before picking up his rifle and using it as a crutch to help get himself up. Some of his joints audibly cracked and to add to this, he rolled his shoulders causing those to crack as well. He carelessly chucked the few belongings he'd taken out back into his bag, and loaded it onto his back with his other bags. Dipper had not well registered what was going on, as he found his eyes hard to open and it was almost impossible for him to see. The pain from the cut on his other leg left the entire back side of his body burning, and he did not feel the hunter free his leg from the snare.  
  
"Well what are you doing?" The hunter questioned him, fastening his rifle back into place and looking around to make sure nothing was left on the ground. He hastily kicked some leaves over the small area of the ground that had been stained with blood. "Get up kid, we're going home."  
  
"I can't see," Dipper couldn't keep his eyes open. "I can't see. Am I going to die? I can't feel my legs."  
  
"You can't get up?"  
  
Dipper tried getting up. His hind legs could not hold up his weight, and he collapsed before he could come close to stabilizing himself. His arms were still bound, so he couldn't use those to stabilize himself. The tears came again.  
"I can't get up."  
  
The hunter carefully bent down to pick up the cervitaur from his lower chest, and held him over his shoulder. He picked up his coffee cup with his other hand.  
  
"It's cold now. What a waste."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"I'll make more when we get home."  
  
Dipper didn't know what home was any more. He didn't know what to expect from the hunter's living quarters. He didn't think about what horrors would await him when they got there. He didn't ponder how long he'd be there or what would happen next, but instead simply relished in the fact that he was alive. The hunter set off the same way he came, carrying the injured cervitaur over his shoulder. He was not muscular, but he was surprisingly strong for how he looked. A pretty flimsy, lanky stature, yet not tall by industry standards. Dipper probably weighed just as much as Bill did, maybe more or maybe less. The trauma from the morning's events caused Dipper to twitch and have muscle spasms every so often. Luckily, Bill seemed to ignore these. Dipper tried to calm himself down by inhaling deeply. He couldn't help but notice that the hunter smelled awfully nice, like some sort of expensive cologne. He couldn't smell it from a distance, but now being pressed against him while he was being hauled home, it was strong and pleasant, sweet and calming. Tragically ironic and confusing.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"We all make mistakes, kiddo. I forgive you."

 


	2. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper gets his wounds tended to before Bill goes back out again

"Are you awake?"  
  
"I'm awake."  
  
"Not feeling very talkative, are you?"  
  
The emotionally and physically drained Dipper kept his eyes shut for the duration of the trek through the forest. His vision was horrendously poor from crying, and it hurt to keep them open anyway. Perhaps when he opened them he would be back home with his family. He didn't know what to say because he feared the consequences of saying the wrong thing, and anything he imagined saying- it all sounded very wrong in his head. There was no "right thing" to say to his captor now. His silence came as an instinct, an aid to his survival.  
  
He wanted to go home.  
  
"And we're home."  
  
His captor's voice cut like a dagger in Dipper's thoughts and the reality of the situation at hand sunk in again and his eyes opened involuntarily. Usually this level of panic would signal to the cervitaur "run away from the danger", but given a mere few seconds to reflect on putting that decision into action, he realized that wasn't an option. He was weak, and still firmly in the clutches of his captor. He'd have an easier time re-assessing the situation and thinking of a plan after he'd recovered and gotten some rest, if that was going to be an option, and that helped put his mind at ease. He was able to maintain composure. Bill reached into his parka pocket for a key and unlocked the door. Dipper had not gotten a look at the outside of the house, as he was facing away from it as they entered, and he didn't want to turn his body to look and risk Bill thinking he was trying to get away. The floor creaked loudly as Bill stepped foot in it, Dipper still draped across his shoulder.  
  
"Alright kiddo, I'm going to give you one fair warning. I've made the unfortunate mistake of setting down wild animals in my house, thinking they were calm, sleeping, or you know... dead?"  
  
Dipper listened and tried not to react, but the sound and rate of his own pounding heartbeat almost overpowered Bill's words, and he was scared Bill could sense his panic. Bill wasn't fussed, he merely paused for a moment before continuing on. He did sense the cervitaur's panic, since that's what he aimed to do: cause panic. He was in charge, and he was going to be feared and respected.  
  
"Then the next thing you know, they're running around like a chicken with their head cut off. Just.... breaking things, trying to bash through windows, causing general havoc. It's especially great with large birds, those mother fuckers must do it for fun. Knocking things off the mantle, the walls, flying into the fan." He paused to give a half hearted chuckle.  
  
"Basically, when I put you down, you're going to behave. Do you understand?"  
  
"I understand."  
  
The hunter carefully lowered Dipper onto the ground, back end first. When his back legs hit the ground, he recoiled in pain, which Bill was not prepared for, and he let the cervitaur slip out of his arms and onto the floor. Between the ride home and Bill's terms for setting the cervitaur down, he forgot about the pain that had stopped him from getting away in the first place.  
  
"I'm sorry, it hurts, I don't know what to do," Dipper did not wait for a reaction from his captor nor did he look him in the eye, or in his direction at all.  
  
"Do you need help?"  
  
"I need help."  
  
At this point, Bill had taken note of how the cervitaur answered questions. He didn't answer with yes or no, he answered with an affirm statement that could not be taken out of context- in this case, a concise request. It was a nitpicky detail, as mannerisms weren't something that actively mattered to him. Nonetheless, it sat quite well with the hunter. He hoped it was a lasting habit.  
  
Bill picked up the cervitaur from his middle and walked him over to the sofa. The living room was directly right of the front door. Carefully, he placed the cervitaur on his side on the sofa and the back legs on the coffee table. Both of the legs were caked with dry blood, some of which had flaked off onto the glass counter. Bill never had a weak stomach to begin with, but all the practice of butchering animals for meat had left him fully desensitized. Wounds, blood and flesh had become routine for him. He observed the wounds for a moment before darting off down the hallway. Dipper remained still with eyes shut tight again, partially because of the overwhelming pain in his back legs, partially out of fear of what he'd see when he'd open his eyes. Bill returned at a leisurely pace, scrutinizing the label on a tube of antiseptic cream. In his other arm he had a bottle of rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and a couple elastic bandages. He placed the supplies on the glass counter and kneeled down to start treating the wounds.  
  
"For god's sake, kid, can you open your eyes? Every time I look at you, you look like you're braced to be thrown in a meat grinder. If the meat grinder were on, kid, you'd hear it."  
  
Reluctantly, Dipper did as he was told and opened his eyes. For the first time he was taking in his surroundings. It looked like a wooden cabin or lodge, if there were a distinction between the two. In front of him, a glass top coffee table with disinfecting supplies on it. An inactive fireplace. A mantle above it, which looked to be lined with urns. On the wall, animal heads mounted on plaques. Rabbits, wolves, other canines, all trophies of the hunter's successful catches. Above those, displayed proudly in the center, the head of a buck was mounted. Its antlers rivaled Dipper's in size. Amused, Bill watched the cervitaur's face with baited breath, relishing in the horror he experienced upon seeing the head on display. The tears came again as the reality of the situation hit Dipper one more time, and he started to break down. He slowly hid his face in his hands and buried his head in one of the throw pillows that was on the sofa, trying to stifle his sobbing. He tried to be brave about the situation until now, but fear and sorrow had pushed him over the edge. His captor watched patiently and silently, visibly pleased by the situation. The silence started to calm him down after not too long. He didn't move, and instead was hoping for some sort of prompt of what to say or do.  
  
"... If I may, kid, I'd like to get these patched up sooner rather than later."  
  
Dipper lifted his head up off the pillow and propped himself up. Too humiliated and exhausted to talk, he nodded. Bill dabbed some cotton with the rubbing alcohol and started to disinfect the wounds. Dipper tensed up, it was not a pleasant sensation, but it paled in comparison to the rest of the pain he'd felt. It was a welcome pain- and it subsided as soon as the wounds were treated with antiseptic and wrapped.  
  
"That's about all I can do for now," Bill admired his job. Admittedly, it was the first time fixing up a wound that wasn't on himself.  
  
"Later we should wash those up better or else you'll start reeking of dead animal. We'll look into it when I get back."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Dipper didn't question what he meant or where he coming back from. He waited for Bill to explain instead. Bill had expected him to ask him where he was going as well.  
  
"It would be polite if you asked where I was going."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
Right now, any tension between him and his captor filled him with dread. His life was in Bill's hands, and it could be taken away at any moment, for any reason.  
  
"Before my morning was rudely interrupted, I was checking my traps as I routinely do."  
  
"I'm sorry." Bill ignored his apology.  
  
"Wolves. Well, wolves or something. I'd check a trap I'd put out the previous day, and all that would be there was bones. Something gets caught, and I guess the scent of blood and fear attracts the predator. Sometimes the bones are scattered, sometimes they're still together."  
  
Bill stopped and contemplated what he was saying before continuing. He eyed the cervitaur's features, then picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol and pretended to read the back. Something to focus on. He spoke calmly.  
"Yeah, they must sense the animal's defenseless and pick it clean in a real short span of time. I don't know what does it. If it's a... pack of wolves, or a single animal or what have you. I'm sick of it taking my kills. It's gotta be pretty close too, I just haven't seen it. I'm surprised you weren't eaten alive! That would be one hell of a skeleton to find, eh kid?"  
  
Dipper contemplated Bill's words, trying to decipher if it was a scare tactic, or if he had in fact Bill had saved him from being eaten alive. It was so eerily quiet last night, compared to nights in other parts of the forest and town. Perhaps it was for a reason. Bill stood up and his knees popped. He'd been kneeling for too long, he'd lost feeling in his feet and was thrown a bit off balance. He was able to straighten himself out within a few seconds.  
  
"Well, I'm off. Shouldn't be too long. If I'm not aching when I get back I'll even make dinner. I hope you eat meat, because I'm not starting a garden. Oh, and it goes without saying, but..."  
  
He nudged Dipper's back legs with his heel, causing him to cringe and tense up. The antibiotics took away the stinging when he was stationary, but it still burned to move them. It was clear he wasn't going to be running around until he'd gotten some rest and recovered.  
  
"Yeah, it goes without saying alright. You're not going anywhere. You'll be fine though."  
  
Bill opened the front door to leave. He paused mid stride, as if he'd forgotten something or was waiting for something to happen. It was the latter.  
  
"Sorry. Bye." Dipper managed to read Bill's body language. There was going to be a lot of learning. Bill turned around excitedly.  
  
"Good! Manners! You know kid, I'm really excited about this. Me and my new animal companion. But not just any animal, an animal with manners. An animal I can talk to about my problems. An animal that can have a pot of coffee ready for my return. But not today of course, you need your rest. Unfortunately an animal's stupidity comes at a price."  
  
Out the door he went. It sounded like he was still excitedly talking about his new animal as he went. Dipper watched him as he walked off into the forest. Once he could no longer see the hunter, he observed his surroundngs again. He wouldn't be trying to move, he couldn't use his back legs. But this was the safest he'd been, so a rest was more than welcome. He'd explore more in due time, but for now it was best to stay obedient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to update more than once a month from now on! Also as a reminder I have 0 experience writing and hope to get better, so thank you if you choose to bare with me!


	3. 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper eats and sleeps.

Dipper awoke to the sound of the door being open, the sound of the floorboards squeaking. He didn't remember falling asleep, he didn't know how long he was asleep for. It was almost dark outside, he guessed it was just after sunset. He would have prefered to stay awake and relish in the silence and safety of being alone while the hunter was gone, but the much needed rest wasn't bad either, especially since he didn't know how frequently he'd be able to rest from now on. He instinctively lowered his head a little as he watched the hunter stride in and wipe his boots on the doormat. Bill coughed loudly, covering his mouth with his arm, and hung up his backpacks on a hook next to the door. He was holding a hefty amount of firewood and kindling under his other arm.  
  
"Cold," Bill had another coughing fit before continuing. "It's pretty cold."  
  
He walked past Dipper, who was still on the sofa awkwardly watching him. Carefully, he kneeled down in front of the fireplace and assembled the wood in a neat pile. He lit a match and threw it in, waited patiently for the fire to spread and closed the grate.  
  
"Hello to you too," there was mild irritation in Bill's voice when he spoke. Dipper felt his heart sink.  
  
"Hi. Sorry." Words didn't come easy for him, but he knew he was going to have to fix that as soon as possible. So far, Bill didn't particularly come off as a chatterbox, fortunately, but he did expect basic interaction and replies. Dipper was scared of what the wrong replies would bring. Bill walked into the kitchen, Dipper turned to watch.  
  
For what it was, the kitchen was pretty equipped. A few spice racks hung on the wall. There was a gas stove with an oven underneath it. A coffee machine and an espresso machine nearest the door. There were multiple cabinets filled with china sets on either side of the window. What looked to be a liquor cabinet. Wine glasses, shot glasses. He hoped his captor wasn't much of a drinker, but the multiple cabinets dedicated to liquors and glasses said otherwise. A few cleavers hung above a towel rack, which had a blood stained towel hanging from it. A knife set sat next to the sink. There were a lot of knives. An air vent above the stove, as well as a fire detector. A sizeable fridge with a freezer on top, and what Dipper assumed was a second, solitary freezer next to it. A small, out of place circular table with two chairs was in the middle of the kitchen, there was no separate dining room, unless it was somewhere else. It was a lot in one area; it was a lot for one person living by themself.  
  
Bill opened the fridge and took out a few small bags of indistinguishable raw meat after throwing a pan on a lit burner to heat up. The meat was cut into strips, dark red with very little fat. He carefully placed the pan one by one- the last one, he ripped an end off with his teeth before putting the rest of it in the pan, mildly disapproving and shaking his head.  
  
"I don't know what this is. I didn't label this batch," he said while chewing, turning the strips over with a spatula. He turned to Dipper and gestured. "Can you walk?"  
  
"I haven't tried." Dipper struggled to talk over the sizzling meat. He tried to hold eye contact with the hunter for an acceptable amount of time. "Should I try? Should I get up?"  
  
Bill signaled with the spatula for Dipper to get up and nodded impatiently. The stove was a bit much to talk over after all. Carefully, the cervitaur lowered his hind legs off of the sofa and onto the ground. It stung, but it was bearable, and more bearable the longer he stood. There were no broken bones to worry about, so he figured it was a matter of just getting up and moving. He'd be fine in time.  
  
"Good. Great," Bill spoke enthusiastically. He turned the stove down. The meat was done cooking after a short while. He signaled for the cervitaur to come into the kitchen. "Come on, while it's still hot."  
  
Very slowly and carefully, Dipper walked to the kitchen table. The first few steps were excruciating, but the pain dulled with every step after that. It was just a matter of getting used to moving his muscles again. He was tense and awkward, but tried not to let it show. Bill got a couple plates down from the cabinet. He wasn't very tall, and Dipper wondered how he would manage to get to the higher shelves if he needed to. Bill put the plates on either side of the table.  
  
"Well, sit. I'll serve you."  
  
Dipper hesitated. He wasn't particularly the correct shape to sit in a chair anymore. He didn't know how to explain this to Bill and he feared the consequences of disobeying him.  
  
"I don't think I'll.... fit," he said, slowly pulling out the chair. Bill turned around, confused for a moment, then went into a fit of laughter. It was humiliating for Dipper, but a much more desirable reaction than anger.  
  
"Sorry kid, I don't know what I was thinking. Here," He placed some of the meat on Dipper's plate, poured a tap glass of water and walked over to the coffee table in front of the fireplace, where Dipper had just came from. "I guess just, until I figure something out. I'll get a dog bed or something for the kitchen. Here, come here then."  
  
Bill placed the dish and glass on the glass surface and gestured for Dipper to come over. Eating on the floor was alright, and it's what he was used to after turning into a cervitaur, but being expected to eat at a table and being unable to was _embarrassing_. He walked back over and sat at the side of the table, so that he didn't have his back to Bill but wasn't directly in front of the fire. Bill went back to the table to eat. At least this eased Dipper's nerves.  
  
"It's not too glamorous," Bill spoke from the other room with his mouth full. He was too caught up in Dipper's manners to have any of his own, by the looks of it. "I mean, I'll pick up some eggs and other stuff from the store next time I go out."  
  
Dipper didn't imagine Bill went back into the town. He'd never seen him there, so he assumed the comment was said with sarcasm. Dipper looked down at his plate. He wasn't hungry, but he wasn't going to find out the consequences of him rejecting food that had been prepared for him. The table still had dried blood on it from before, and that didn't make him any more excited to eat the still indistinguishable meat. He ate, slowly and reluctantly. Whatever it was, it wasn't bad.  
  
"Right, well," Bill got up, stretching. Dipper got up as well, as a sign of cooperation. Bill put his dishes in the sink and Dipper did the same. "I guess I should show you around."  
  
He grabbed Dipper by one of his antlers and led him. Uncomfortable, to say the least. Between the kitchen area and the living room was a hallway, and to the left of the hallway was a staircase, which was directly adjacent from the front door. There was a balcony around the living room, and a room with a door, but Dipper couldn't see what else was up there. Very high ceiling. Bill directed him down the hallway. Dipper followed as close as possible to ease the pulling on his antler.  
  
The hallway had two doors on the left, two on the right and one at the end.  
  
"I guess there isn't really much to show, now that I think about it." He gestured to the first door on the left. It was underneath the stairs.  
  
"Bathroom- please clean up after yourself if you're capable. I know it's a long request for an animal companion, but you seem like a bright one! I don't want hair everywhere, or blood or anything. Clean yourself on a regular basis."  
  
It was demeaning and dehumanizing, and Dipper couldn't say anything in defense. He knew his captor wanted obedience, and he was being baited to argue.  
  
"Yeah." He acknowledged the requests made of him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean, I understand. Yes, I understand."  
  
Bill directed Dipper's attention down the hallway. "That's a spare room next to the bathroom. Right now I'm just keeping cages and supplies in it. Traps, renovation stuff... the basement's down the middle. There's nothing down there, but come winter it'll make a nice walk-in freezer."  
  
He gestured with certainty at the door in the back left. "My room. Regardless of if I'm here or not, don't go in there. I need my privacy, and we'll both be very sorry if I find you invade my privacy."  
  
"I understand."  
  
"Great! And last but not least, you'll be staying in this room. That's right, you get your own living space! I mean, at least until you make me angry. Then it's into storage with you."  
  
The door was across from the bathroom. Bill gestured for Dipper to open it. What was the worst case scenario? Was there an industrial grade meat grinder behind the door or something else sick? Dipper carefully turned the door handle and opened the door. Bill flicked on the light.  
  
Dipper's previous thoughts about the room left him more content about it than he should have been, the room had nearly nothing in it- there was a coat rack, a circular rug. There was a small window, but it was too dark to see what was outside.  
  
There was a sizable cage with a lock.  
  
"Admittedly, I wasn't really prepared to have guests. Less prepared for the responsibility of having a living animal companion. I'll get some blankets for you." Bill swung open the cage door and gestured.  
  
"Come on, in, it's late anyway."  
  
Nervous and shaking, Dipper entered the room and slowly backed himself into the cage. It was dehumanizing to listen to Bill's demands, but he had no other choice for now. There wasn't quite enough room to stand up, so he laid down. The bottom of the cage was cold. The only thing Dipper imagined a cage this size would be used for was a bear or something larger. It was too big to fit through the door, and must have been assembled in the room. It was best not to think too hard about it.  
  
Bill left and returned a few seconds later with some towels, handing them to Dipper and then bending down to close and lock the cage.  
  
"Sorry kid, best I can do on such short notice. I'll see what I can do for you tomorrow."  
  
"Thank you." Dipper wasn't doing to protest his new living arrangements. He imagined he'd be put someplace worse if he did.  
  
"My pleasure. Well, get some shut eye, you've gotta heal up those legs of yours."  
  
Bill turned off the light and slowly shut the door.  
  
"Bye. Good night," Dipper managed to say before the door clicked shut.  
  
"Good night!"  
  
Dipper wasn't going to give his captor the satisfaction of seeing him cry again that day, but within moments of the door closing, it became involuntary. He curled up and quietly sobbed into one of the towels he'd been given until he fell asleep.

 


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper gets pulled around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this may have dragged on a bit but after this I'll work on a better pace! Thanks!

 

 

He awoke naturally- he woke not to noise or pain. He woke up from his first full night's sleep in over two days. Deep enough to leave him rested, but not enough to leave him disoriented upon waking up. He knew where he was, he didn't have the pleasure or disappointment of thinking it was all a passing nightmare. Still in the same cage he agreed to sleep in last night- was he forced to sleep there if he did it willingly? He rubbed his eyes to unblur his vision and realized the cage was unlocked, door slightly opened. The room door was open slightly as well- he must have been sleeping deeply enough to not hear his captor come in. The cage wasn't particularly new, and the door hinges squealed the night before as he was locked in. It could have been a blessing or a curse that he'd slept through it.

  
Instinctively, he looked around to see if anything had changed, trying to think of what motivated Bill would have had to open the doors without purposely waking him up.

  
Nothing had changed. No additions to the room, everything was as it was the night before. Perhaps opening the doors was merely an invitation to join Bill out in the rest of the house. If it was, Dipper wasn't going to take him up on the offer as he feared the repurcussions of leaving his cage without explicit permission, so he shifted his weight to the other side in the cage and waited. He picked up on a scent, strong and vague- it smelled strongly of pepper, but he couldn't tell what exactly _smelled_  like pepper. It was a definite sign that his captor was still home, which lent itself to some unneeded uneasiness. Dipper didn't know what the hunter's routine was, when he left, where he went and when he came back; didn't know when the hunter went to bed or woke up. He'd learn as quickly as he could so that he could plan around it. There wasn't much to plan now, but knowing when the hunter was expected to be out would at least give him some peace of mind.

  
Footsteps made their way from the front of the house to Dipper's room. He panicked for a moment thinking he should have pretended to still be sleeping- he didn't have enough time to act on this though so he instead opted to look as awake and alert as he could. Two very gentle knocks on the door, and without a pause, the door opened slowly.

  
"How long have you been awake for?" The hunter strode in and further opened the cage door. "Come on then, out. Stretch."

  
Dipper carefully got out of the cage. While the cage was large, so was he, and it would prove to be a feat to get in and out without getting an antler caught. It would be an even bigger feat trying to sleep comfortably when he wasn't exhausted.

  
Being out of the cage and able to stand up and move around comfortably was when Dipper realized the pain in either of his legs was completely gone. Though it was bearable and he expected it to feel better in the morning, he didn't expect the pain to be _completely gone_. He wasn't about to admit to his captor that he felt better, but he realized he couldn't fake still being injured either. He said nothing and figured he'd just let it play out naturally.

  
As Dipper straightened himself out, to his surprise, Bill had went back to the kitchen by himself. Dipper was expecting to be led around by his antler again. He carefully walked out of his room, to the kitchen. Unfortunately moving slowly and carefully prolonged the squeaking of the wooden floor- he took note of this for future reference.

  
Bill was tending to the stovetop- multiple pans at once. There was a plate at the kitchen table and a plate on the coffee table in the adjacent room. The memory of awkwardly being unable to sit resurfaced in Dipper's head. He watched Bill uncomfortably for a moment, who was too wrapped up in cooking to turn around or notice that he'd come out of his room. He carefully went to go sit down next to the coffee table, waiting awkwardly for directions, or to be noticed. Bill turned around- he hadn't seen Dipper right away as his attention was drawn to the hallway, and most of him was hidden behind the sofa. After a few seconds he turned and saw Dipper, who awkwardly nodded his head once as a hello.

  
"I just cleaned the rug, kid, what are you  _doing?_ "

  
Dipper looked around him and at himself. He wasn't dirty, he hadn't dirtied anything. He wasn't going to try to convince Bill otherwise though.

  
"I'm sorry, I just don't want to get in your way." His voice cracked mid sentence and he stood up and backed away, head lowered, trying to signal he meant no harm of any kind. He sensed something was very wrong with trying to justify himself. He was truthful and at the same time doubted his own sincerity. The way his captor looked at him with irritation made him doubt himself. Eye contact with him was uncomfortable in ways Dipper didn't even understand. Bill sighed and turned to tend to the stove again.

"Sit back down, you're fine."

  
It felt like he had been set up- if he wouldn't have sat down, he would have been reprimanded for that as well. For lurking and watching. He found the thought of having to be told exactly what to do all the time unsettling and dehumanizing. Unfortunately dwelling on these things didn't solve anything and Dipper told himself not to dwell on it. He slowly and carefully sat back down where he was, scrutinizing the rug, wondering if he just couldn't see that it was dirty.

  
The front wall of the house had very large windows and let a lot of light and warmth in when the sun shined directly into them. This calmed Dipper down as he sat in silence, trying to zone out. Zoning out he thought would have been a sure sign of being calm, and he wanted to believe that he was calm.

  
"I hope you're hungry," Bill said, turning off the burners, sliding food from the pans onto the plate on the kitchen table. "Actually, come here, with your plate. I don't have enough hands to bring this over."

  
Dipper did as he was told, Bill loaded his plate. Crudely scrambled eggs, sausage and what looked like grits- a surprisingly normal looking breakfast. He recalled from the previous night Bill saying he'd stop at a store to buy eggs, but didn't think he was serious. He didn't actually know what the hunter had his fridge stocked with so he assumed the comment about the eggs was a joke. He wouldn't have went into town and back this early- or at all.

  
There was no way his captor would have the courage to go into public. That's why his house was in the middle of nowhere.

  
Bill shooed him off and he walked back to the living room to eat- more careful and slow than necessary, taking special care to be as quiet and neat as possible so not to give his captor something to yell about. Again he wasn't hungry, but he wasn't going to turn down a meal- and it wasn't bad, but Dipper could not cook anyway, so he couldn't find anything short of completely inedible to be bad. Evidently Bill had finished his food well before Dipper. He got up and stretched, dropped his plate in the sink and headed for the hallway.

  
"Hurry up, we're going out. I've also got a surprise for you," he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

  
Dipper shoveled the rest of the food in his face and put his plate in the sink as quickly as possible and waited near the door. The only thing he could imagine he was going outside for was being dragged to go hunting- or that was just about the best case scenario, and he stuck to it before something worse surfaced in his mind. He looked forward to it in a way- it would be a good opportunity to demonstrate he was obedient and to earn his captor's trust. Surely he was just being brought along to see if he would try to escape- and he wouldn't- at least not yet. He'd have plenty of time to try after he'd worked on building a trust between them. Besides, he was _hunting_. It wasn't a matter of outrunning the hunter, if he could even do that. There would eventually be an opportunity without guns involved.

  
Bill emerged from the bathroom, looking surprised to see Dipper waiting at the front door- a sort of unreadable surprise, Dipper couldn't tell if he was glad or upset. Looking too eager to go outside could be taken the wrong way. He got out of the way as Bill retrieved his coat and bags from the rack next to the door. He carefully took one of a few rifles off the wall mount as well, put it in a holster and slung it across his shoulder.

  
"Oh yeah, almost forgot."

  
The hunter kneeled down and briefly rummaged through one of the bags that was at his side before pulling out a pair of pliers and a chain. The chain had a larger ring on either side of it. Dipper knew, he considered the likelihood of this happening before. A collar. Carefully, Bill used the pliers to open one of the rings on the end.

  
"You know this would be a fair bit easier if I could just slide this over your head like a dog, but dogs don't have big ole horns sticking out of their head, now do they? Sit down so I can get this around you."

  
Dipper did as he was told, trying not to show any signs of panic as he felt the cold chain touch the back of his neck. Carefully the hunter pushed the chain through the open loop and used the pliers to re-close it. It slipped a few times as he tried, making Dipper's heart drop each time. It was harder to close it than it was to open it, and the hunter was uncomfortably close to him. Hands too close to Dipper's neck. He felt vulnerable, and liable to break into a panic at any given moment. The choke chain was securely on. Bill admired his handiwork for a moment, sighing contentedly, before giving a sharp tug on the end of it. He looked up at Dipper expectantly, who was staring sharply to the side, out the window. He was not going to let his captor get the best of him. The tug pinched at his skin. Bill stood up, still holding on to the end of the chain, pulling it upward with him. Dipper felt his airways restrict. He stood up and instinctively tried to back away from the danger, further tightening the chain. His eyes watered.

  
"No no, that will make it worse." Bill talked calmly, issuing a smug, satisfied smile at the cervitaur that was still trying to look away from him. "You go _forward_ , you move in the direction I am making you move."

  
Without easing up on the chain, Bill pulled it forward again. Dipper moved with the chain this time, allowing it to ease up accordingly, and he gasped for air. He wiped his eyes vigorously in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Bill was satisfied with the compliance and eased up on the chain, but kept hold of it. Dipper turned his head to face him and made the unfortunate mistake of briefly making eye contact with his captor. He felt lightheaded and sick to his stomach.

  
"You hurt yourself, look at that," Bill's voice showed concern, but his face did not. He bent down again to examine the cervitaur's neck. A red swollen ring. He carefully lifted the chain up to look at it and ran his thumb across it. The pain did not bother Dipper as much as Bill touching him did, but the combination of the two made him even more lightheaded.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry, don't worry."

  
"Sorry for what?" Bill stood back up and shut his bag.

  
"Pulling," Dipper physically struggled to reply. "For pulling, I didn't mean to."

  
"All animals react the same way. Most don't learn as quick. You should be proud of yourself." He gave a gentle tug on the chain. "Come on then, we're going."

  
Bill opened the front door slightly, then turned and eyed Dipper up and down with mild discontent.

  
"It's going to get a bit chilly out later. Do you need a jacket or anything? You're sort of... well, not dressed."

  
"It's okay." It was an awkward conversation that he'd hope to nip in the bud. He truthfully wasn't as sensitive to the cold as he was before the transformation. Shirts and jackets fit awkward on him anyway. Hats were out of the question.

  
"Suit yourself. Most animals have a whole coat though, not a half of one." Dipper wasn't going to give in to Bill baiting him to argue. The discussion was over. Bill was out the door, still holding onto the chain, Dipper following by his side. Walking was a good combatant to stress. It was an illusion of at least a miniscule level of freedom.

  
Looking back Dipper realized the cabin was in a clearing, with a lake round back of it. Aside from that there were only trees. It had been the first time he'd seen the outside of the cabin. There were a set of sheds to the right as well, and some small terraces. Terraces were typically used for planting vegetables, but he didn't see the hunter as much of a gardener.

  
"It's not much of a hunting trip really. Well not today," Bill looked back at Dipper briefly as if to make sure he was still with him- he was still holding onto the chain. They were walking at a brisk pace.

  
"Basically just checking the immediate area. We don't want any wolves around. I've created a very delicate ecosystem and I don't want _mutts_  eating my food out of my traps." He paused.

  
"Or trespassers, but that's what the lake is for." Dipper dismissed the comment as sarcasm for his own well being.

  
For the most part, they followed a very vague and twisted path. Some trees had been marked with paint or fabric scraps, but no traps were visible.

  
"Yeah, you need to watch your step around here. That's what the collar's for." He gave another sharp tug on the cervitaur's chain. "Mostly."

  
"You know I've been meaning to ask really, what's it like having horns sticking outta your head, kiddo? They grow in all at once? You use them for anything?"

  
Dipper was being prompted to take part in and continue a casual conversation and was a bit taken aback by it. He hesitated. Bill slowed his walking pace a little.

  
"I don't know. I think they've... they've grown a little? I really don't know," He paused and waited for a response awkwardly before trying to continue.

  
"They've never bothered me really. It doesn't feel natural, I feel like they'd wind up breaking off or something."

  
He paused again. Bill said nothing.

  
"Like...  
I feel like they're brittle. I'm scared they'll break in my sleep if I sleep wrong."

  
He felt strangely contented with himself for answering. Positive interaction was good for him, he felt. It would benefit him in the long run.

  
"Guess it must have been weird for you. Waking up to find you were an animal." Bill sounded vaguely amused.

  
"Yeah."

A good amount of time passed in silence. Sometimes the hunter would stop and listen for something. Sometimes he would disarm and relocate a trap, none of which Dipper had even noticed until they had been picked up. It seemed the forest was a dangerous place for anything or anyone to be- but they had seen next to nothing during their trek around. It would have been a relatively enjoyable stroll were it not awkwardly quiet. Something felt not quite right with the environment and the whole ordeal. The sun had gone down.

  
"Yeah, I know what you're thinking. A bit empty, it is." Dipper guessed the hunter had expected more as well.

  
"Guess we should go back before the forest gets the upper hand on us. It's getting dark."

  
"If you caught something out here. How would you get it back?" Dipper tried to get used to the potential idea of casual conversation, since the hunter seemed cheerful enough right now.

  
"Well same way I got you back I guess, same way I get everything back."

  
"What about something... bigger? Or alive? Actively struggling?"

  
"I'm stronger than I look, for a start. Sometimes live prey has its advantages too, yeah. Suffocation does the trick. Binding, too. I guess if I trapped a bear or something rather far away I'd carve it there. Make a small clearing, set up a small camp. It's something I've wanted to do."

  
The trek back felt a lot shorter, then again the trip was not a straight line there and back. Most of it was in silence, Bill still holding on to the end loop on Dipper's chain. They made it back to the clearing while it was still light enough to see, though the sun had gone down already. He rushed Dipper inside before coming back with some firewood from the shed a fair few minutes later, starting a fire before collapsing on the sofa in front of it.

  
"That wasn't particularly successful on any level." Bill pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Dipper didn't know much about hunting and he felt the pointlessness of the trip vaguely unsettling, like there was something else going on out there in the forest Dipper didn't know about.

  
"I mean it's all about fun really, and that wasn't fun. There's nothing out there..." He paused for a moment before continuing. Dipper stood by the far side of the couch unable to offer words of encouragement. It felt awkward.

  
"Guess it was just a quiet day for the top of the food chain."

  
Some time went by and Dipper realized the hunter had fallen asleep on the sofa. It was also then as he looked around he realized there was no form of a clock in any part of the house he'd seen. It was fairly dark, but it got dark early anyway. Walking was exercise but that was about it. It wasn't _exhausting_. Maybe the hunter had been awake a lot earlier than Dipper had. At any rate, he took the silence as a welcome retreat and quietly made his way to the bathroom.

  
Turning on the light he noticed some small amounts of dried blood in and around the sink. Not alarming, but a bit sickening. He looked in the mirror and saw himself for the first time since he'd been brought here.  
Pale and exhausted looking. He lifted the chain slightly up off of his skin to see the damage underneath. A red ring with most of the individual chain pieces distinguishable, as if it had been scalding hot when it was put on him, but it wasn't, he remembered distinctly that it was cold. It was the pulling, the skin pinching that left the mark. An animal would have a coat of fur to protect their neck. Dipper wasn't that fortunate. It had been less than two days, and he already looked sick and malnourished. Hopefully learning to deal with his captor would help ease the suffering until he could escape. The thought of having to gain his trust to be treated even remotely human was downright revolting and unbearable, but it was the safest way to get out of here.

  
Far from tired, he locked himself in his room, backed into his cage and fumbled around with the door until he managed to lock it. Nearly pitch black and quiet. He feared what his captor would have done if he were anywhere else once he woke up. Laying down and shifting around restlessly, he struggled with intrusive thoughts about how much worse things could get from here, but eventually the thoughts gave way to sleep.

 

 


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The going gets rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's in two parts because it flowed best cut up and wouldn't have jived well as two different chapters. If you're still reading, thank you :)

 

 

(part 1/2)

The next couple of days that went by were, for the most part, uneventful and long. Dipper would be ushered out of his cage in the morning by his captor, they'd eat. During these days Bill had exclusively stayed home, only leaving the cabin to get wood for the fire. A good amount of time passed in silence, Dipper sitting next to the sofa while Bill read the newspaper. Sometimes he'd chuckle at something he'd read, and Dipper would perk up and pretend to be interested. If Bill was in a good mood he'd explain what he'd read and Dipper would force a laugh. Other times he'd just continue on reading. He was prone to falling asleep as he read, and Dipper would take his reading material away and put it in the kitchen, away from the fire, just to be safe.

  
Dipper found that Bill would sleep through a lot of the day- aside from falling asleep dangerously close to the fire with a newspaper, he'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table after finishing his meal. Dipper would double check to make sure the burners were off and that anything perishable was put away. He still ate by himself, at the tabletop in front of the sofa, which was a lot more relaxing than the prospect of eating at the opposite side of the table, having his captor watch him eat. He couldn't bring himself to be concerned with Bill's sleeping habits, and instead enjoyed them. He couldn't particularly do anything regardless, but he could minimally combat his restlessness by doing a few slow, quiet laps around the kitchen and living room. Being in motion helped him think clearly. The hunter seemed fine when awake, with no signs of weariness or exhaustion.

  
Dipper's worst experience during these couple days was in the kitchen- he had offered to help clean and put away dishes. Without thinking, he'd put his front hooves on the kitchen counter in order to reach up and put dishes in the high cabinet. Bill touched the side of his leg with a hot frying pan. It took a few seconds for Dipper to feel it as the heat worked its way past his fur, but he had recoiled both in surprise and pain, bumping into the table and knocking over a glass. He had started frantically apologizing before seeing Bill sternly holding up the frying pan. He apologized one more time.

  
"You don't put your _feet_ on the counter."

  
A couple of times, Dipper would be locked back in his cage for a few hours during the day. The restlessness of it made him thankful for the mobility he had when he was out of the cage. These daytime lock-ins were sporadic and seemed without reason, he'd done nothing wrong or anything at all to spark being punished. However he obeyed without asking why or putting up any sort of fight. His captor wanted obedience, and he didn't want to find out the consequences of arguing or resisting were. He could hear the hunter go upstairs, open and close a door. He still didn't know what was upstairs, but it wasn't his business or concern anyway. Maybe he'd find out on his own if he were left alone some day.

  
During these couple days, Dipper's appetite had normalized, which he felt was mostly a bad thing. He no longer struggled to choke down food against his better judgment. He experienced a genuine and normal hunger whereas before he was too nervous to eat. He considered the possibility of the hunter starving him down the line, and so he enjoyed food while he privilege of doing so. His appetite had not changed much since his transformation- early on he was scared by the thought of having to adapt to the diet of a deer, but that didn't seem to be the case. The thought of eating venison bothered him, as he pondered if that would be some level of cannibalism, but that was offset by not knowing what he was eating most of the time. His old diet would have consisted of very tame and regular meats- beef, chicken, pork. He imagined his captor didn't particularly go out and hunt cows.

  
There were some foods Dipper couldn't imagine eating as a side effect of the transformation, as they reminded him in horrible ways of a beloved family member he may never see again, but for now he was alright to go about the diet provided for him. Various mystery meats, eggs that didn't look like they were from your agerage chicken, grits, oatmeal. Water and tea. His captor had a couple different coffee machines as well, but coffee was too bitter for Dipper's tastes at even the worst of times. There was a functioning well outside the cabin as a second water source, which typically had cleaner water than what ran in the house. Bill would have to run the tap for a few minutes to let the water run clear before it was fit for drinking or cooking. Despite it eventually running clear, Dipper was not very comfortable with drinking it. But Bill drank it, so so did he.

  
Dipper would wash up in the bathroom, always being careful to leave it in a better state than it was in before he had used it. The bathroom had a very old feel to it, most of it was a pastel yellow. The mark around his neck was still there, but now it itched instead of hurt. Now and then there would be small pools of blood in the sink, bloody saliva. Why Bill was so paranoid about Dipper dare shedding a hair on the floor when he'd seemingly cough up blood in the sink and leave it there was beyond him. Dipper would clean the sink, taking special care not to let the blood touch him and then he'd sterilize his hands after. He wasn't particularly squeamish around blood in particular, but the blood of a seemingly _half demon_ he felt he should be careful around. A tame case of being scared of the unknown.

  
Sleeping these past few nights was no easy feat either and instead proved to be more of a chore as time went on. It was feasible when Dipper was actually tired, but not so much when he was restlessly cooped up in a house for several days. Bill had promised him some actual blankets, but he never received them. They weren't so much to combat the cold as they were to provide padding for him to sleep comfortably on. His antlers accidentally grinding against the metal of the bottom of the cage sent shivers down his spine and had even woken him up several times through the night. It was near impossible to sleep at all in these conditions, but he'd manage after struggling a while.  
These days lulled Dipper into a false sense of security.

 

(part 2/2)

Usually, Dipper no longer slept through the hunter unlocking his cage in the morning, but would pretend to remain asleep for a while to maximize his time away from thim. Often the hunter would be awake far before the cage was unlocked, Dipper could see through the small window in his room that it was still dark out. Never did his captor come in while he was sleeping just to observe him, his presence was always accompanied by the unlocking of the cage. Dipper was grateful for this.

  
Today he had slept through his cage being opened. He must have been more tired than he'd thought. During restless nights, even the smallest sound would wake him. Like usual, he waited a while before exiting his room. Today however, he was met with silence. He went into the bathroom to splash water on his face before going out into the house- no one was there. He pondered the possibility of the hunter still sleeping in his room, but it seemed unlikely. He had been awake earlier to open Dipper's cage, there were dishes in the sink. The likelihood of him consciously going back to bed wasn't very high. Dipper came to the conclusion he must be out, and took the opportunity to tidy up, clean and put away the dishes. Clean the bathroom sink and floor again.

  
He waited, there was nothing. Would he have known the hunter had left for so long ahead of time he would have spent the day relaxing, whereas every moment now was sat in front of the window, waiting. He decided to put on coffee as the sun started to go down. Four tablespoons of coffee per cup of water. Bill liked it dark and bitter. He'd prepare the water and coffee the night before so that he'd just have to press the button on for it to brew, so that he wouldn't have to mess around with measurements in the morning. Dipper thought this could cause bacteria to manifest in the coffee machine, but Bill seemed fine, and Dipper really couldn't care less either way.

  
Dipper went back to looking out the window as the coffee did its thing. Still plenty light out, but the sun had almost set. He would have prepared a fire if the hunter kept wood inside for it, but the wood was kept in the shed. And the shed was outside, and he wasn't allowed outside.

  
He opened the front door slightly, paused, then quietly exited the house, all four hooves outside. He realized him leaving would be by no means a secret, as he was going to get fuel for the fire. His main concern would be being caught in the act and having Bill coming back at the opportune time to mistake Dipper's trip as an attempt to escape. Though he'd try eventually, today was not the day, not while it was getting dark, not while he didn't know where he was, not while the hunter was in the forest, armed. Today was a good day to demonstrate his ability to leave the house and return obediently.

  
As quickly and quietly as he could, he made his way to the shed. There were two sheds, both on the right side of the house from an entering perspective. He could see them from his window just barely- his window was very small. One of the sheds was kept locked at all times, and he'd never seen the hunter near it. The other shed did not have a door and contained nothing but firewood and a few large black garbage bags. Dipper picked up a formidable amount of firewood. What was a formidable amount for him was next to nothing for the hunter. Dipper was never particularly strong to begin with, but after his transformation, too much weight threw him off balance. He care careful not to take enough to risk an accident and made his way back inside.

  
Once back in he took one last glance out the window to see if anyone was coming. No one was. He carefully laid the logs in the fireplace, as he'd seen Bill do, then he threw a lit match in, closed the grate and waited for it to catch fire. Once it did he went back and sat next to the coffee table. He wasn't cold, but he enjoyed the warmth all the same.

"Wow! you carry all that in by yourself?"

  
Bill's voice caught Dipper off guard. He was sitting on the second floor, legs dangling down from the balcony, overlooking the living room. The door upstairs was open. Dipper had all but forgot there was a second floor since he had never been up there. He instinctively got up, and stumbled over his attempt at a response to the point that you couldn't make out a word that was said. He inhaled sharply and pointed at the front door while he tried to regain his composure.

  
"I thought you were out," His voice cracked mid sentence. "So I wanted to get things ready for when you came back."

  
"You thought I wasn't here, so you decided to disobey me." He looked amused moreso than upset, but Dipper always had a hard time trying to read him.

 

"I thought you weren't allowed outdoors."

  
"I'm sorry. I was trying to help. I won't do it again."

  
Bill got up on his feet and stretched before slowly heading down the stairs and to the front door. He grabbed his coat, he already had his bags and rifle.

  
"I guess being cooped up here with no exercise is sorta dull, huh? We're going out for a while, come on."

  
Dipper didn't want to find out if he had a say in what was happening, whatever was happening. Bill opened the door open for him and locked it behind them. Dipper didn't realize the door could even be locked. It was getting dark now, and with the dark, it was chilly. Even he felt it, and he had a much higher cold tolerance than his captor did. Bill held onto his chain and they walked off into the forest. Some minutes of silence had went by before Dipper could bring himself to say anything.

  
"Are... you mad?" Something felt very wrong to Dipper. He never stopped to consider he'd been baited into the whole situation. All he knew is that he made a mistake. "I'm sorry."

  
"We're just going for a bit of a stroll is all. We could both use the fresh air, don't you think?" He tugged on Dipper's chain- not hard, just enough to signify he wanted some sort of response."

  
"Yeah."

  
They hadn't walked very far, and the forest was filled with the same kind of silence there was last time they'd been out. The main difference is that it was considerably dark now, though you could still see. Not soon after, they slowed down and stopped. Dipper looked up at the hunter.

  
"Do you hear something?" Dipper asked in a hushed voice. He heard nothing himself.

  
"No, not yet."

  
"Not yet?"

  
Bill let go of Dipper's collar to kneel down and rummage through his bags. Dipper stood frozen where he'd been let go, watching as Bill pulled out a metal chain of formidable length, some thin rope and a pair of pliers.

  
Dipper could try running away. That's why Bill let go of his collar. Bill hadn't had a good hunt since before Dipper came around, but Dipper could give him one.

  
Dipper wasn't ready to tempt death though, even if it could be better than what was about to happen, even though he didn't know exactly what was in store for him. Bill got up with his supplies, but left his bags on the ground. The chain had a latch hook on either side. Bill attached one side to the end loop on Dipper's collar. He looped the other end around the tree nearest to them and pulled the latch around it, giving it a sharp tug. Dipper started shaking as he watched, and hoped he wouldn't be prompted to say anything, knowing whatever he tried to say would just come out as a mess.

  
"Well that ought to hold!" Bill was cheerful. The chain would probably give Dipper a maximum of six feet away from the tree. "Oh yeah, I forgot you've got yourself a set of hands. You could just unhook yourself and run off, couldn't you?"

  
Bill pulled Dipper's arms behind him, wrists together. He looped the rope around them while Dipper tried resisting to no avail. He couldn't put up a fight when he was shaking. He could barely stand.

  
"I figured this would have been easier than welding the chain on! More exciting, too." He pulled the rope tighter as he talked.

  
"Bill, no, please." Dipper was shaking, panicking. He didn't have the strength to put up a fight and he could barely speak legibly. Bill paused for a moment.

  
"You know, for a while I thought you forgot who I was. That's the first time you've addressed me by name since... oddly enough, the _first_ time you were stuck to a tree.

 

 

Say it again."

  
Dipper didn't address him by name because it was uncomfortable. Right now, it was downright painful. The landscape blurred.

  
"Bill." He bit his lip to try and stop it from quivering. He tried harder not to cry.

  
"My whole name."

  
His best efforts were in vain as tears ran down his face. He sobbed and winced, shaking his head defeatedly. He couldn't bring himself to do it.

  
Bill tightened the rope best he could and tied the ends together before tugging both of Dipper's arms back, causing his shoulders to audibly pop and bend out of joint. Dipper gritted his teeth and let out a raspy, desperate cry before sobbing again.

  
"Bill Cipher."

  
Bill eased up on Dipper's arms, seemingly pleased with the way things were going.

  
"Good! Good." He pulled a pocket knife out of his jacket. "You know, I own this forest. I own everything in it. It's all _mine_."

  
Dipper broke into a full panic when he heard the knife eject. Struggling hurt, but it was instinctive.

  
"I say we wake up this damned forest. If there's anything here, what better way to lure it out but with the promise of a good meal?" Bill tapped the blade behind Dipper's ear. It was warm.

  
"I'll do anything. I'm sorry."

  
Bill made an agonizingly slow and light incision leading from behind Dipper's ear down the side of his face, under his chin. Enough to cause a trail of beads of blood. Dangerously close to his neck. He tried to hold the other side of Dipper's head still as he trailed the knife down. Dipper's eyesight had gone hazy and he started to hyperventilate. He couldn't struggle, and if he could, it might wind up costing him dearly.

  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse, his pleas all grouped together into a senseless mess he kept repeating.

  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." At this point he didn't know what he was apologizing for. In the moment, Bill didn't know either.

  
Bill ran his thumb over the incision he'd made and examined the blood. He inhaled deeply and bit his lip in an attempt to hide the grin that broke out on his face and wiped the blood off on Dipper's cheek.

  
"Now if there's anything out there, this is sure to get their attention. If they can't smell fear, they can smell blood, right? Maybe both!" Bill's blatant excitement was the most horrifying thing he'd ever experienced during his time in the forest. Truthfully the cervitaur had spent a good amount of his nights contemplating his own death, but he couldn't bring himself to welcome it, even if he expected it. He tried, accepting death out here in the forest - in the hands of his captor - ahead of time would have made everything a lot easier. It would have lessened his struggles, allowed him to think more clearly. Perhaps it would allow him the peace of mind to think up ways to get out of situations like these. But it never happened. He never accepted death, so instead of calming down and embracing it to lessen the sting, he panicked and struggled. Less human than animal, but more human than his captor.

_Howling._

  
They had both froze to listen. This was when Dipper realized the hunter was shaking as much as he was- his hand still clasped to the side of Dipper's head opposite of where he had cut him open. _Shaking_. Dipper didn't have the luxury of mistaking it for fear. It was a rush for him. The hunter, still holding onto the side of Dipper's head bent down to whisper in Dipper's ear.

  
"Something's coming."

  
His voice was shaky too, and the warmth of his breath lingered awkwardly with Dipper for a moment before he had a chance to focus on bigger problems ahead. Bill let go of Dipper, who was frozen in place by this point. Surely it would have been the noise that the animal picked up on and not the scent of blood.

  
Unless it was very, very close.

  
Bill very carefully hoisted himself up the tree he'd chained Dipper around and securely sat on the first durable branch he came to, about ten or twelve feet up. His legs tucked in with an arm around them, and his other arm around the tree. When he realized the branch was stable and wasn't going to give out, he let his legs dangle down and he bent forward, folding his hands under his head and watching with extreme excitement and eagerness. Now Dipper was horrified and without any hope of protection.

  
"Where do you figure you fit in the food chain, kiddo?" Bill made no effort to lower his voice, making Dipper's efforts to stay quiet completely useless. The cervitaur's body tensed up as he stood there shaking, silent, hoping Bill would be silent as well.

  
The sound of something running through leaves could be heard. It was too late to be quiet. He looked up at Bill and slowly shook his head in disbelief. Whatever was out there, he wasn't ready for it.

  
"Bill." Dipper bit his lip and inhaled sharply, trying to maintain enough composure to choke words out, one last shot at reasoning with the hunter.

  
"I'm not ready to die."

  
Dipper desperately tried to hold eye contact with the hunter to try and convey that he was powerless. Bill broke it to look off in the distance behind Dipper. He slowly raised his hand up and pointed a ways away.

  
Something was coming. Maybe multiple things. Dipper turned around to try and find exactly where the noise was coming from.

  
It didn't take long. A small pack of four or five coyotes appeared from the distance, slowed down and split apart to approach the defenseless cervitaur from multiple angles. Coyotes weren't typically pack animals, but it wasn't uncommon for them to work together to take down bigger game. Dipper had been taught in case of an animal attack, he should curl into a ball and cover his neck with his hands. Unfortunately this wasn't an option as his hands were still uncomfortably secured behind him. Bill watched in silence. He was safe where he was, but he didn't want to be a distraction to whatever was about to play out.

  
A pack of coyotes was questionably a better situation than wolves, though wolves would be able to do the job quick and minimize his suffering- merciful, in a way. After circling around Dipper out of his range for a short while, one of them lunged at him and the rest hesitantly started to follow suit. The cervitaur reared back and focused on staying on all fours. His best chance at putting up a fight of any kind could only be done if he could stay standing. Dipper cried out as he felt a sharp pain in his back leg, followed by a sickening and audible crunch that he could feel through his whole body. He managed to shake the coyote off before wobbling and regaining balance. The cut under his ear had been ripped apart further as he moved and though he felt no pain from it, he could feel blood dripping down his neck.

  
If there were less of these damned things he realized he could probably stand a chance of taking them on. He could scare them by charging them, but he couldn't scare them all at once. He'd charge at one, only to have it run out of his range while he stayed a sitting duck. Another one lunged at his front leg, sinking its teeth into it. Dipper reared up again, crushing the coyote's rib cage as he slammed his feet back down, the coyote letting out a yelp that was cut short as it let go of his leg. Dipper paused for a moment, out of breath, before once again slamming his hoof down on the coyote, crushing its skull and making sure it was dead.

  
The other coyotes seemed to have second thoughts about the attack as they stood outside Dipper's range, pacing and watching. All he could hear was his own heartbeat and a dizzying whooshing noise in his head. He stomped again on the corpse of the dead coyote as the others circled him hesitantly. Hoping they wouldn't call his bluff, he charged at them, nearly choking himself on the chain he was still connected to. The coyotes fell back a few more feet and started sniffing around, turning back to watch Dipper every so often. Eventually they lost interest altogether, trotting back into the forest the way they came. As the threat left back into the forest, his adrenaline rush subsided and his legs and face were flooded with excruciating pain. He looked down, realizing he couldn't distinguish the coyote's blood from his own. This was made even more difficult as his eyesight blurred, leaving only blotches of colours and a loud, punsing ringing in his head. Unable to maintain his balance, he eventually buckled under his own weight and collapsed, making a faint attempt at curling up before everything went completely black.

 

 

His head was against something soft as he regained consciousness. It took him a few minutes to open his eyes, as they had crusted shut and he couldn't bring himself to move any other part of his body. It was quiet aside from the violent ringing in his head, and it was warm. His eyesight was blurry, and it took him a while to slowly regain his senses and realize where he was.

  
As his eyesight focused he realized he was back at the cabin, laying on the sofa and resting his head on the arm of it. There was a near burnt out fire in the fireplace. He struggled to turn his head slightly. Bill was sat on the floor next to the table, a steaming mug folded in his hands. The room smelt faintly of liquor.

  
It was about 3 am. It took Bill a moment to realize Dipper was awake, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly as he made brief eye contact with the injured cervitaur. Bill averted his gaze to observe Dipper's wounded legs, which he had patched up when they got home. Dipper opened his mouth to say something- then realized somehow there was both nothing to say and too much to say. He shifted his head slightly away from Bill and let out a quiet sigh. It hurt to inhale.

  
"Yeah, save your breath. You've got to get your rest."

  
Dipper turned his head again slightly and hesitated to find the will to say anything. His voice was raspy and tired. Defeated.  
"Can I stay here?"

  
Bill paused for a moment before taking a sip of the steaming liquor scented drink he had. He wasn't sure if Dipper meant he wanted to stay at the cabin or just on the couch for the rest of the night. Truthfully, Dipper didn't know either.

  
"Sure you can, kid."

  
Dipper gave him a faint, defeated smile before he shut his eyes again for the night.

 


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper shows some small signs of emotional wear and tear. Bill springs some plans on him.

He wasn't sure what woke him up, but he woke up. His head was throbbing, ears ringing as he struggled to open his eyes. It was still dark out, he hadn't fallen asleep for more than an hour or so. The fire was nothing but a few bright coals that dimly lit the room. Too weak to move all but his head, he turned and saw Bill was gone from where he sat before, in his place a large empty bottle and what looked like some sort of ashes had been put on the table- perhaps it had just blown out from the fireplace, Dipper was a bit too delirious to tell. He heard a door shut, a light switch. The light hadn't been from the fireplace afterall, the room was about pitch black now. Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. They made their way around the back of the couch and to the coffee table.

"You still awake?" Bill spoke in almost a whisper. Dipper hesitated, he wasn't sure if Bill was asking because he saw that he was in fact awake, or just asking on the off chance he'd get a response.

"Yeah. Sorry." His voice was hoarse and tired. It hurt to talk, and the pain stuck in his throat for some time afterwards.

"That's not something you need to apologize for." Bill picked up the bottle. Dipper could hear him presumably sweeping the table off after. He said nothing in response, since all he could muster up was an apology, and an apology for that apology, and so on. They both knew this.

"Well," Bill spoke in a careful quiet voice. "Go ahead and get some rest if you can then. I won't interrupt you."

He quietly went off down the hallway and into his room. Dipper slept through the rest of the night peacefully.

  
He wasn't feeling much better when he awoke. He turned his head only to have the sun shining directly on him, he covered his eyes for a minute before rubbing them. He inhaled deeply and frowned in discomfort. Little by little his senses came to him as he awoke. Unfortunately the pain came as well.

He propped front up carefully- he could feel and move his legs, but it was so painful that he wished he couldn't. Something was cooking in the kitchen, but he didn't have the strength to turn around or get up.

While his legs hurt, they also itched which made them even more uncomfortable. His neck and the side of his head itched too. A bit more worrysome than pain, he didn't know exactly how he'd cope with an infection if he got one. He'd had a fight with _coyotes_ , who knows what diseases he could catch- and he didn't want to accidentally scratch open a wound in his sleep or otherwise.

Being in this position was awkward for Dipper- as he didn't know if he should try to get up, or to speak, or to wait. His shoulders were sore as well, and his arms shook from holding his weight up. He opted to wait, but he wasn't waiting for long as Bill came around to the side of the coffee table and bent down to get a look at the weak and tired cervitaur, who was consciously avoiding eye contact. He'd come to instinctively fear the sound of those boots on the wooden flooring. Some people would forbid shoes to be worn inside houses, and Dipper wished Bill was one of them- then again, if he was, he'd probably come up with a horrible alternative to having hooves in the house as well.

While pondering his fear of hearing the hunter walk across the floor, be briefly realized he had problems piecing together what had happened last night. He hadn't forgotten what had happened, but he was having problems recounting the emotions he went through during the whole ordeal. He didn't quite remember what he had done to get himself in the position he was in or what happened after. He didn't remember waking up here during the night, didn't remember Bill sitting on the floor sipping his drink.

"You awake? How many fingers am I holding up?" The hunter held up three fingers and after a few moments, Dipper mirrored his actions and held up three fingers as well. He didn't have the energy to speak unless it was necessary. The hunter looked satisfied with his answer, stood up straight and went back into the kitchen. He returned a short time later with a steaming bowl that he placed on the table.

"Can you get up? Can you move?" Bill eyed the certivaur while picking something out of his teeth, looking mildly concerned. As Dipper tried moving his legs, the pain returned in full force. He could definitely feel his legs alright, and he could move, but it was an agonizingly painful experience. He winced as he struggled to get himself upright, but he did not stand, and instead sat uncomfortably on one side of the couch.

"Alright, well you don't need to get up. Eat, though, it'll be good for you." He handed the bowl and spoon to Dipper. Some sort of oatmeal. He ate carefully, since the bowl was as hot as it looked. It was near sickeningly sweet as well, to the point it was not enjoyable. He continued to eat anyway, as he had not eaten yesterday and the warmth made his throat feel better.

"Yeah, I know, but it's good for you." Bill crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow as he watched Dipper. He clearly picked up on the displeasure Dipper was experiencing.

"I think my back leg's broken." Dipper's voice was raspy, but he wanted to change the subject. Bill watching him eat made him uncomfortable.

"It's not broken." Bill walked over and bent down slightly to examine his leg, arms still crossed.

"How do you know?"

"I fixed it."

"So it was broken?"

"No."

It was a bit of an awkward exchange that seemed confusing for Dipper and mildly irritating for Bill.

"Well... thanks." Thanking his captor was uncomfortable, but seemed appropriate. He did bandage up his wounded legs, broken or not. The bone didn't feel broken now, but he remembered the crunch that went through it, and the shattering feeling that carried through his whole body. His leg didn't break, it _shattered_. Recalling this made the pain much more manageable in comparison, though he was starting to wonder if he could trust his memories, since they didn't seem to be adding up.

"Try standing. Go on." Bill gestured at him to get up. Dipper hesitated for a moment before placing his empty bowl on the table and looking around desperately to buy a few seconds- he wasn't ready to try to get up- but he didn't want to find out if he was going to be forced to do so. He'd rather look back and know he did it on free will. He inhaled loudly as he carefully slid his feet on the floor and stood up.

Painful, but nowhere near painful as he imagined it to be in his head. It was manageable, and he was sure now that nothing was broken. It was perplexing, but he didn't think about questioning it. He took a few steps forward. Painful, but still manageable.

"Talk about a speedy recovery," Bill raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty impressive."

Dipper didn't really know how to proceed, as Bill watching his movements felt awkward. Bill must have picked up on his as well, as he headed back towards the kitchen to put away dishes.

"So do you think you can walk okay? I think you can probably walk okay. Would you mind doing something for me?"

"I can try." Dipper wasn't too confident in whether or not he could walk any real length, but he was more concerned over Bill asking him to do something. He'd not been asked to do things, he'd be demanded to do them, or reprimanded when he did not think of doing them himself- but he wasn't _asked to do things_. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he said no.

Bill had gotten a step stool to keep next to the fridge that he'd use to put dishes away on the high shelves. He took it out to continue putting dishes away as he spoke.

"Can you just bring in some firewood so we don't have to get it later? I figure you'll get a decent workout too, it'll be good for you." He put the stool back where it was and turned around, Dipper still standing where he was. He gestured to the door with a fork. Bill never pointed or gestured with his hands if he could help it. No particular reason, it was just a force of habit.

"Go on, then."

Dipper knew he was making the request just to witness the reaction. Since he had dared go outside to get wood without permission once, Bill was going to make sure he regret it- and he did. Dipper inhaled slowly and carefully approached the door. He didn't ache nearly as much as he did when he woke up, and it seemed like it was in fact just a matter of exercising his muscles. He stopped at the door and pulled the handle, but did not go out. Bill raised his head a little and looked amused.

"What's the matter, kid? I figured you could use the exercise but... you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

He did have to do it though, otherwise Bill would make him regret it. He considered apologizing again for disobeying Bill yesterday now that things were calm, maybe he'd get some clarity or peace of mind himself.

Something deep inside told him he'd regret it. Let the past be in the past. _Don't question his captor's actions_.

He wobbled outside, out to the shed and picked up as much wood as he felt comfortable carrying. While picking up the wood he felt a very displaced sense of panic- as if when he got back to the house something bad would happen. As he pondered it, he got lightheaded and set the wood back down, stabilizing himself by extending an arm to lean on the inside wall of the shed. Something bad was going to happen when he got back, he'd done something wrong, he just didn't know what it was. He took some deep breaths and tried to calm down while he still could. If he took much longer, he'd face the consequences of that too. Carefully as he could, he hurried back to the front door after picking the wood back up. He slowly turned the handle and bit his lip to brace himself for whatever was going to happen.

Nothing had changed in the few minutes he'd been outside, the hunter was sitting at the kitchen table, facing away from the door and reading the newspaper. Dipper didn't stop to wonder where he got the newspaper from. They were in the middle of seemingly nowhere. It must have been old. Bill looked up and over at Dipper and pointed to the living room.

"Just put it down for now." He watched mindfully as Dipper walked over and laid down to carefully stack the wood next to the fireplace, facing away from him. Bill returned his attention to his newspaper.

"You know I keep thinking you're stronger than I am for some reason. You know, like, physically? Able to lift more than I can, etcetera..."

"I don't think I am." Dipper continued slowly stacking the logs next to the fireplace. They both knew he wasn't, but Dipper knew the hunter just wanted him to admit it. The hunter had carried his entire body weight back home like it was nothing the day he found him, along with multiple heavy bags- bags filled with ammunition, chains, knives, survival tools. The hunter was very small in stature, short. He wasn't muscular. He was scrawny to the point of looking malnourished. Anything he caught out in the forest he must have dragged home as well. He didn't have a vehicle that Dipper was aware of. All in all, it didn't really add up. Maybe there was some sort of magic involved- after all, the hunter was in theory only half human.

Bill didn't seem to have the powers he had before the transformations happened, before he had a physical form of any kind. Was he still half demon? Dipper seemingly didn't give up any of his human traits when it happened, so why did it seem like Bill did? From a technical standpoint, Bill was more human than anything, even if he acted like a monster.

Where did Bill get his body from? Did he choose it? Did he steal it from someone? Was this originally someone else's cabin? Though these had been recurring questions for Dipper, nothing alarmed him. His threat and concern was with the hunter himself. He wasn't curious about what Bill had been through. He simply considered it and that was that.

Bill had put his newspaper down and sleepily ran his hand down his face, sat back in his chair and folded his arms to his chest.

"Do you reckon you could do some damage with those antlers of yours, kid?"  
  
"I don't know." Dipper hoped the conversation should be cut short. They had this conversation already. Bill just wanted to hear about how defenseless he was.

"Do you think you could defend yourself with them?"

"I don't think I have to. Defend myself from what?" Dipper turned to face him. Bill did not reciprocate the gesture.

"From me."

Dipper slowly inhaled, then swallowed, not ready for whatever he felt was coming. It was a good thing he was already sitting down. Bill chuckled and looked over at him.

"Yeesh, did it just get tense in here or is it just me? I was joking." He turned his chair to face more towards Dipper and leaned forward.

"No, I was thinking about uh, going camping. You know, a trip. Hunting trip."

Dipper had to think about what Bill said a few times to fully comprehend it, since he was assuming him to say something completely different.

"I've gotta catch something. It's been over a week. And I couldn't eat the last thing I caught. It talked back." An amused smirk broke out on his face for a moment before he continued.

"Not a long one, just over night. We've gotta be out there when there's stuff that can be hunted, after all." He pulled his chair out and got up. He looked over at Dipper for a few moments waiting for a response, which he didn't get.

"... So, the sooner we get ready, the sooner we can go. If you're not going to weigh in on this, can you at least give me a sign you're listening?"

"I understand. I'll be ready."

An overnight trip didn't exactly excite Dipper. He wasn't sure how far he could walk either. But maybe he'd get a few amicable days if the hunter could pull off catching something that made him happy. After all, hunting was a sport for him. Some people hunt to survive, or to control pest population- and some people hunt because taking the life away from something living brings them joy. For some people, being the cause of something's misery is a form of ecstasy.

Bill rubbed his hands together.

"Great! Let's get our shit together then."


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Bill go camping.

 

Bill cut no corners planning for the occasion. On top of all his regular gear, he'd also packed a tent, extra rifle, a selection of dried food, multiple full cantines, and sleeping bags. It seemed a little excessive for one night, but better over prepared than not prepared at all. Dipper carried the tent and sleeping bags on his back. He probably could have held more weight, even with his damaged legs, but the hunter seemed content with what Dipper had, and he was more than capable of hauling the rest himself.

"Okay. Bags, food, water... rope, knives, scissors, first aid kit." Bill paced in a circle around Dipper while carefully recounting all of their supplies. He handed his checklist off to Dipper. His handwriting was awful to the point Dipper couldn't read it, so he hoped he wouldn't have to.

"I think we're good to go."

Judging by the position of the sun, it was probably a small bit past noon. Dipper held the door open for the hunter as they left, locking it behind them. He stayed at the hunter's side as they walked off, expecting that once they were out the hunter would grab hold of his chain. He didn't. Bill distanced himself from the cervitaur a few feet, then looked at him like he was uncomfortable. It was a weird time for the hunter to want personal space.

As they walked out of the clearing and into the forest Dipper started to panic slightly, recounting the last time they were in the forest, remembering what happened. He tried to remain calm on the exterior, but the hunter caught on to the shaking and slowed down to examine him. He held a hand out to Dipper signaling to him to stop, then untied the luggage the cervitaur had on his back and hoisted it onto his back instead before carrying on, all without a word.

The problem wasn't with the luggage, and the shaking only got worse after as Dipper didn't have the extra weight to help stabilize him. The hunter paid no extra mind after. He eventually managed to calm down.

There were long stretches of silence between the two, but it was welcome to Dipper. The hunter seemed to be in a cheerful mood, relatively speaking. On occasion they'd stop and Bill would sit down for a minute to drink from his cantine. It was a long but tolerable walk- Dipper hoped it would be just as tolerable on the way back as well.

It was still light out when they started slowing down to find a place to set up camp. Bill let out a small sigh and covered his mouth with a fist, contemplating the best place to set up a camp. There were no clearings, so any place they were to set up they'd need to clear the area first. Bill decided on an area that had some stumps and fell trees around, so that they could make some makeshirt seats.

"This'll do." He dropped his luggage at his side and they started clearing the area- enough room for a fire, with enough room around that to minimize the possibility of unwanted firespread. Bill pitched the tent while Dipper watched- he knew next to nothing about camping himself, so he just tried to stay out of the way. He tried to put together some makeshift seating out of fallen logs around the fire pit. It was a pretty calm atmosphere- but he knew it wouldn't last, so he enjoyed it while he could. He didn't know what the rest of the day would hold for him once they'd gotten set up.

Bill took a step back to admire his job. It was a tent all right. A dull camouflage pattern with a small neon ribbon tied at the top- probably a good idea, as all the landscape around them was about the same and if they wandered off they could have a problem finding their way back. Bill turned to Dipper.

"Oh, can you climb?"

Dipper looked up at the surrounding trees to make it look like he was considering an answer, but there was no way he could in his current state.

"I don't think so."

"Well I guess we're just gonna have to pop those bears before they can get to you then." Bill had a very cheerful and sarcastic way of presenting this sort of information to Dipper, so Dipper didn't know how seriously he should consider what Bill said to him.

"But no, generally the best course of action is to get situated somewhere high and wait. A lot of hunting is about waiting, kid. It's sort of like fishing in that regard. Speaking of, well, we should go fishing sometime too."

Dipper would rather not go fishing.

"Alright, I truly didn't consider where we'd put you when we got here. I guess that's sort of careless of me." Bill bit his lip and looked over at Dipper, perplexed. Dipper was emotionally drained to the point he couldn't bring himself to worry about it unless he was actively about to be attacked by whatever forces were out there. He _was_ confused over why Bill would have been concerned for him.

He felt like nothing was out there in the forest, but he hoped there was _something_ , for the hunter's sake- for both their sakes really, as Dipper didn't particularly fancy the idea of the hunter going back empty handed and angry.

"I want you to try something, kid."

Dipper had a passing flashback of the coyotes. He shook his head nervously in Bill's direction without realizing he was doing it. Bill held his hands in front of him, palms out, and bent his knees. He was getting ready to stop some sort of physical force.

"Try coming at me. I want to see how strong you are."

"Why? I don't want to hurt you." Dipper shook his head as he spoke, again not realizing he was doing it. However he did realize it would be good to know if he could overpower his captor if need be. It was an awkward, out of the blue situation to find himself in. He considered the likelihood he was, again, being set up to do something wrong.

"You're not going to hurt me. I didn't say you had to _impale_ me, I just want to see if you can push me back, defend yourself against predators if need be." Bill slowly and calmly approached the cervitaur- he was actively trying to show that he was not a threat. A very mixed and confusing signal for Dipper to experience. _Bill had the capability of presenting himself as harmless_. That to Dipper was more important and worrysome than the actual situation.

"It's fine, it's fine."

Bill slowly held his hands to Dipper's antlers. Dipper bent his head down to be level with his hands and carefully pushed in to them, trying to demonstrate that he was willing to do what he was told while trying to come off as being harmless himself. Bill gripped his antlers and braced himself.

"Go on, try to knock me down."

He tried pushing forward- gently at first, then with more force, but the hunter did not budge. He was braced with knees bent, so he was clearly trying, there was no supernatural force here like Dipper had half expected. He couldn't do it, he wasn't sure if he truly was too weak to move the hunter or if it was because he'd never tried using his antlers for anything. He always felt like they would be very brittle, and would break off if he tried to use them like a buck would- but they didn't feel brittle, and that made him feel better.

Eventually he gave up and backed away. He felt like he did something right, and the hunter's expression backed his suspicions up.

"Not too bad! Really, not bad." The hunter put his hands on his hips.

Dipper realized the exercise had caused blood to rush to his head, making him feel a bit lightheaded. He heard ringing in his ears, but it subsided as moments passed. Only after this happen did he stop and reflect on the fact that he couldn't do so much as to move the hunter an inch. While it was an upsetting bit of knowledge to learn, he couldn't help but feel a bit in awe of the hunter's strength- he had carried the cervitaur home on the first night, a trip that took hours, all without stopping. He brought what was surely his own body weight in equipment with him today. In a way, it made him feel safe.

He had also forgotten about the shape his legs were in. The pain had completely subsided. Either there was some sort of supernatural force at work here or his memories of his bones being crushed weren't as accurate as he thought.

Bill had tossed most of his belongings into the tent, save for a few cantines and his rifle. He retrieved one of his bags from the tent.

"Right, well... we should get set up. As best we can, anyway." Bill took what looked like some sort of folding metal stool from his bag and handed it to Dipper before approaching one of the trees nearest to his tent, hoisting himself up it and sitting on the first solid branch after making sure it could hold weight. He gestured for Dipper to hand him the stool. The cervitaur had to stretch with front legs up the tree to reach, as the hunter was relatively high up. Bill unfolded the stool and strapped it securely around the tree, level with the first branch. It had two levels, one to sit and one to rest your feet on. These were typically used to sit and wait for deer and other large and and were usually used in conjunction with a harness for safety. It looked like Bill did not have one of these. After making sure the stool was fastened correctly, he hung down from the branch and dropped himself to the ground.

"Now what do we do about you? You can't stay down here." He eyed the cervitaur in thought. There was, probably, no way that Dipper could manage to maintain balance on the branch for any more than a few minutes in his current state, and potentially they could be waiting hours.

"I can stay down here."

"No, you can't." Bill replied matter of factly. "You'll either scare away anything edible or attract something that wants to eat _you_."

Bill made his way back up the tree after pondering a few moments. He sat on the trunk next to the stool and gestured for Dipper to come over, then held his hand out to him while holding his other arm around the tree to secure himself. Dipper walked over but waited to extend his hand.

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Let me pull you up here. We'll figure it out from there."

Dipper extended his hand to grab Bill's and he was carefully lifted up onto the metal seat. He put his arms around the trunk of the tree, scared that the seat would give out under his weight. He wasn't scared of heights, but realistically he knew there was not enough room to hold him.

Though it shouldn't have been a concern to him, he couldn't help but notice the hunter's hands were a lot warmer than his own. It may have just been his nerves acting up. Bill awkardly looked at Dipper's hands as if he shared the same thought but he said nothing on the matter and instead looked a bit sick in the face for a moment before they continued on with the matter at hand.

"I can just about guarantee that's not going to give out from under you if you want to stay there, but if you want to switch places and find a way to sit yourself on this branch that's fine too."

"What will you do then?" Dipper wasn't reassured by the hunter's words and did not ease his grip on the tree.

"I'm fine here."

The cantines Bill had were attached to straps that he had slung over his shoulder along with his rifle. He passed a cantine to Dipper, who hesitated a few moments before reaching out to take it, still keeping one arm around the tree. The fall from where he was wouldn't be lethal by any means were it to happen, but it would hurt, and could potentially damage his legs again since they probably were not fully healed. More importantly he imagined it would be disruptive and he'd have to pay the price for that as well.  
  
Bill examined him as he took the cantine and put it around his neck.

"We're going to be here a while, so get comfortable." Easier said than done.

Bill turned so that his back faced the tree. He pulled his legs up and put his arms around them, letting out a small sigh. He was clearly more comfortable with heights than Dipper was- then again, this day was going to be exciting and enjoyable for him, whereas it was going to be dreadful for Dipper. Bill spoke in a near whisper.

"Deer in particular have very keen hearing, so we're going to be very quiet. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Dipper looked forward to the silence in a way, but it would have been more enjoyable if he weren't near immobile in a tree. "Thanks for the cantine."

Bill audibly inhaled and placed a finger over his lips, signaling Dipper to be quiet. Bill looked pleased with himself and looked off into the distance, waiting.

They were in a relatively level part of the forest and could see a ways off before parts of the landscape became hidden behind small hills. There was a small stream trailing through the landscape. It wasn't as quiet as it had been the last few times Dipper had been out here, but it was a natural kind of quiet. The forest wasn't deserted like it had seemed to be previously. Groups of small birds would come and go, chirping loudly, and the noise of small woodland creatures came and went as well.

Dipper had become comfortable a lot more quickly than he had expected to and was able to relax and to a point, enjoy the situation. The hunter was there, but he hadn't done so much as to look over at him or say a word to him. He'd look in the cervitaur's direction to survey the landscape, but he did not look at the cervitaur. The only noise he made was carefully unscrewing the top off his cantine and putting it back on. Hours went on in tolerable silence.

After some more time went on, a small group of what looked to be deer came in to Dipper's view, following the stream in the direction of their campsite.

"Bill." Dipper whispered as quietly he could, pointing faintly to the small group of deer in the distance. Bill slowly turned his head and torso to get a better look at what he was pointing to. He raised his eyebrows slightly as his sights locked on to the deer, which had stopped walking- one drank from the stream and the others walked around the area.

"Don't move a muscle." Bill was close enough to Dipper where he could feel his breath on him, but he did what the hunter had said and didn't move. Without taking his eyes off the group, he slowly and carefully moved his rifle from his side onto his lap, holding on to the trigger. They waited motionless. Eventually the group resumed their walk down the stream in the direction of the campsite. As they came closer, Dipper could see the group more clearly. The deer were all bucks, there were about four of them, with one of them distinctively larger and more impressive than the others. Typically bucks were solitary creatures and did not travel together, and usually were only seen together if they were sparring. Given the size difference between the larger one and the three smaller ones, it was a possibility that it was a father traveling with its offspring, though that was near unheard of as well. It was clear which one Bill would be taking a shot at when the time was right.

Eventually the group stopped again, some drank while the others stayed nearby. They were close enough where you could hear them grunting amongst themselves. The largest one stood relatively still while some of the others drank. They were not aware of Bill or Dipper's presence, though they were fairly far away still, and deer have relatively poor eyesight.

Bill very carefully and slowly lifted up his rifle and took aim at the buck, still prominently stood, waiting for the other deer to move on. Dipper held securely onto the tree, hoping he wouldn't be spooked when the hunter finally fired. The last deer who was drinking raised his head up and they were all ready to carry on their way, so it was now or never.

_Bang_.

The knockback from the rifle had caught Bill off guard and he grabbed on to Dipper's arm to stop himself from falling backwards onto the ground. The deer scrambled, all of them running back off the direction they came- all but the large one, who took off in another direction. Bill tightened his grip on Dipper's arm for a moment before letting it go. Dipper's heart sunk. He turned his head to look at the hunter, expecting him to be upset that his buck had gotten away. Bill met his gaze for a moment before looking off in the direction the buck had ran.

"What, do you think I didn't get it?" He still whispered, it was hard to tell the tone in which this was said.

"It ran off. It didn't die."

"That's what it thinks." Bill switched from a whisper to talking with a very hushed tone. "It's going to bleed out now, then we wait and follow where it went off to. If we try to follow it now, it may travel farther on account of adrenaline setting in." He paused and took a long inhale.

"This is what I live for, kid. Mostly."

The next half hour was an amicable silence.

"Well I think it ought to be good and dead by now." Bill stretched, then hung down fro the branch and dropped to the ground as he had before. Dipper was not a confident in his ability to get down. Bill walked under him and reached up.

"Come on kid, I'll break the fall."

"No, I'm alright." Dipper reached over to the branch and attempted to hang down and drop like Bill did, but the shock from having his hooves hit the ground threw him off balance and he fell to the ground. He tensed up with pain, but it subsided after a few moments. Bill grabbed his arm and helped him up.

"See, that's the kind of thing that can be avoided."

After Dipper was sure he wasn't injured, Bill vaguely pointed off in the distance at the approximate place the buck had ran off and they started walking. The sun had gone down by this point and even Dipper could tell it was getting cold. Bill stopped them and looked back at where they came from- this was about the place they had shot the buck, right next to the stream. There was a near indistinguishable trail of very dark blood going off the direction the buck had fled and they followed it best they can. Eventually it came to a stop- and there it was- the buck was laying on the ground. It had to have been dead.

Bill walked over to it and rubbed his hands together, looking delighted at the sight. He kneeled down and lifted its head up to examined its antlers. He traced his hand down its neck down to where the bullet had hit, between its shoulder and the base of its neck.

In a way Dipper had been dreading this moment, but he found he was taking it better than he'd have thought. He wasn't a deer, but deer hunting did resonate with him on a personal level. He was beyond relieved that the sight didn't send him into a fit of panic, but still to a degree, he saw himself in that buck.

Bill slowly looked up at the cervitaur and smiled in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Dipper could hear his breathing. It's like the hunter knew what he was thinking.

"Under different circumstances, this could have been you." Dipper did not have the courage to look him in the eye. Bill looked back down at the buck and stroked its neck, then paused like he was trying to maintain his composure. Dipper watched him cautiously, not knowing what he was going to do next.

"Well," Bill got back up on his feet after carefully placing the buck's head back on the ground. "I think we should keep it where it is for tonight and come back for it in the morning. It's a bit too late in the day to do anything with it now, and if we bring him back to camp, it could attract unwanted visitors." Dipper noticed the hunter had a large blood stain on his jean leg where he was resting the buck's head, but Bill either didn't notice or didn't care. They both headed off back towards the camp.

"Let's get a fire going when we get back. It's got to be cold, even for you."

Dipper felt as though he narrowly avoided something awful.

They started the fire when they got back. Bill left the tent unzipped and kneeled between it and the fire, unpacking cooking supplies.

"Oh yeah, are you sleeping out here or in the tent?"

Dipper found the question almost laughable. While he didn't think about it before, he didn't realize he'd have a choice in the matter. Granted the tent was large enough to fit two people comfortably, there was no way he was going to share a tent with his captor.

"I think I'll stay out here by the fire." Bill reached into the tent and tossed a sleeping bag over to Dipper.

"Suit yourself."

Bill had brought some dried vegetables and meat along to rehydrate over the fire. The first vegetables Dipper had eaten since before he got into this mess. They sat not quite on opposite sides of the fire, but quite a ways away from each other. Dipper didn't have much of an appetite and had struggled to eat all that had been given to him, but he managed. A good amount of time passed in silence.

"Well, kid, I'm gonna go get some sleep. I should be up early to carve up that deer, since I don't think we're going to be able to drag it home." He paused and inhaled sharply before turning to Dipper.

"Good night."

Bill stretched as he got up from the log he'd been sat on, and waved to Dipper as he entered and zipped his tent. After a few minutes, the only sound was the fire.

Being alone was relaxing for Dipper- he wasn't tired, and some time passed. He enjoyed his time alone and enjoyed the warmth of the fire. He had set his sleeping bag on the ground and was laying on top of it, staring into the fire. It didn't fully sink in until a while later that Bill had let him stay outside unsupervised and unrestrained.

Perhaps he could try running. The odds were against him though, he didn't know how to get back to civilization. He didn't know what was lurking in the forests this time of night. And he considered the very real possibility that this was a test, and he was being watched- with the fire going, the hunter could probably see Dipper run off. Surely the hunter was aware of the possibility that Dipper could escape, no matter how small the possibility was.

His contemplating was cut short by the sound of a long, high pitched howl, a very different howl from what he'd heard before from the coyotes. He sat up and became stiff with panic. He didn't want to make noise and risk drawing the threat closer to him. He couldn't even distinguish what direction the noise had come from. As he grabbed and clutched his sleeping bag, the tent carefully unzipped from the inside.

"Come on, get in." Either the noise had woken Bill up or he'd been awake all this time. Dipper hurriedly grabbed his sleeping bag and entered the tent, Bill zipped it after. Dipper continued to panic.

"Is it wolves? What's out there?" Dipper's voice shook as he spoke. It was a different kind of panic than he'd been experiencing- someone was there to listen to him.

"Yeah, sounds like it. After something, maybe. Do you reckon they smell the buck? That'd be a shame." Bill seemed calm and undisturbed, a contrast to how Dipper was taking it. Then again, Bill could have been sleeping until now.

"Are we going to die?"

Bill ran his hand down his face and groaned.

"What, do you think a wolf is going to unzip the tent and eat us while we're sleeping?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't know how to defend myself. What if they're after me? What if I've got deer blood in me?"

That was something Bill didn't consider before, but he wasn't going to be concerned with it now either. He passed a flask to Dipper.

"Here, drink. Please kid, calm yourself down."

Dipper took the flask and drank- then coughed and gagged- it was some sort of heavy liquor, not water. Dipper fought with himself to stop gagging, afraid that he'd wind up vomiting. His eyes watered. It wouldn't have been as bad if he wasn't caught off guard, he thought it was just water.

"Woah, easy there." Bill took the flask away from Dipper, who had his hands over his mouth, staying still and trying to get himself under control. After a few moments, he sighed and took his hands away from his mouth. He looked up and realized while there was light from the fire, it wasn't really possible to see much outside the tent. If anything came silently, they probably wouldn't notice. It also meant Bill likely wasn't watching him while he was outside. He looked over at Bill, who was looking back at him, slightly alarmed and taken aback, but otherwise very calm. He had most likely been drinking.

"Seriously, do you know anything about wolves? They're more scared of us than we are of them. If they're hungry, they'll follow the scent of that buck, not us- and I don't particularly fancy going out and fighting wolves for the damned thing. Maybe under other circumstances, but... not tonight. Not tonight."

Bill collapsed back onto his sleeping bag in an exasperated fashion and massaged the bridge of his nose. He turned to face away from Dipper.

"Seriously, kid. You're fine, we're both fine, get some rest."

Dipper quietly sighed and bunched together his sleeping bag to rest his head on. He laid on his stomach in the side of the tent, putting as much distance as possible between him and the hunter. Not only was the situation both awkward and horrifying, but he didn't need to accidentally wind up rolling over if he did get to sleep and risk jabbing the hunter with his antlers. He didn't feel like he was going to get to sleep at all that night- he was getting dizzy though, either from stress or that drink earlier. He clutched his sleeping bag and rested his head on his arms. His body felt oddly warm. Some time went on, and he finally felt himself calming down.

"Kid?"

Bill was still awake. He spoke calmly and quietly. Dipper waited a moment to answer.

"Yeah?"

The silence was awkward. Maybe Bill had fallen back asleep.

"... Well, I'm sorry about the comment earlier."

"What?"

"With the deer, it could have been you. I didn't mean it like that."

Dipper vaguely remembered the comment, but Bill had said and done worse to him. It seemed out of place that he'd apologize at all, and for that of all things.

The apology was oddly calming, though, and Dipper felt himself overcome by tiredness. He struggled to respond.

"I...." Dipper sighed quietly. Words weren't coming. He was comfortable and exhausted.

"Good night, Bill."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY my like pacing and chapter writing is really strange and spontaneous I am still getting the hang of all this and stuff so if I ever go long periods of time without updating know I didn't abandon this (but it's totally ok to ask what's up if you want)... if you're still reading, thanks a ton!!


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill gives Dipper a gift

The sun shining through the tent was enough to wake Dipper from his restful and full night's sleep. He ran his hands down his face and yawned, taking a few moments to fully register where he was. As he realized he wasn't in his cage, he started to slowly recount the previous night's events piece by piece. Him and the hunter had went camping overnight, he had wanted to sleep outside under the stars, but had decided to share the tent when the two of them had heard howling in the distance. It didn't seem weird then, but as Dipper remembered the previous night, he was surprised that the hunter seemed to be concerned with his safety. Surely the hunter would have had some fun by testing Dipper's patience or leaving him alone outside where potential predators were. There were definitely wolves in these woods, it was not the familiar sound of coyotes that echoed through the trees last night. Coyotes scared him enough as is- but they're small, and tend to be more solitary. The chances of him defending himself against wolves- even just one- were not too high. Outrunning it could be a different story, but alone in the woods, where could he run to?

Dipper sat up as he tried recounting the events of last night. His captor didn't strike him as an alcoholic, but he did drink, and maybe that calmed him down to the point where he wasn't going to test their luck last night. How much or how often he drank was unknown to Dipper as well- it didn't seem like the hunter tried to keep it a secret, but he didn't seem to particularly drink early, or around him. If the hunter was tired enough the previous night to sleep before Dipper, how and why did he find the time to drink before?

He turned around to survey the tent. The hunter was gone, most of the gear still there though. His jacket was here too. A few metallic flasks and a plastic cantine were next to where he had laid last night. A few glass bottles could be seen in an unzipped canvas backpack.

At least Bill didn't seem like the violent sort when he drank.

Dipper got to his feet and carefully emerged from the tent. Bill was nowhere to be seen- but then Dipper remembered he'd probaby be off either dragging the dead deer carcass back to camp or cutting it up there. Dipper didn't particularly fancy subjecting himself to the sight of such a thing, and he didn't want to seem like he was wandering off, so he sat outside and waited. The sun warmed his fur and he found himself reflecting on the fact he was quite calm, considering the circumstances. He knew it wouldn't last, but he tried to enjoy it so he could have some memory of a moment of serenity later. He felt remembering this kind of thing might help him sleep at some point.

He wondered when the fire had gone out during the night. It must have been very shortly after they'd went to bed. Thinking back on it, it would have been smart to attempt to put it out, as it could have attracted unwanted visitors. But they really didn't have time to do so, and nothing came of it anyway. Thinking back on the previous night, Dipper realized the wolves must have been a passing threat- the howling had ceased very shortly after he'd taken refuge in Bill's tent- that or he couldn't hear it from inside. They may have found the deer carcass instead of the camp. This wouldn't bode well for the hunter's mood though, and Dipper's calmness was short lived.

Dipper pondered why the hunter had no interest in confronting wolves- surely he wasn't scared of them. He recalled the mounted heads Bill had over the fireplace- there were definitely wolves there. He'd encountered them and triumphed over them, took them home as trophies. Why wouldn't he take the chance last night when his latest kill may have been compromised?

Dipper's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of distant footsteps.

Bill came back seemingly empty handed, save for the two severed antlers of the buck they had caught last night. He walked with noticably poor posture. When he caught site of Dipper, he held the antlers up. Dipper walked over to the fire pit to greet him.

"How'd it go?"

Bill held the antlers in front of Dipper, as if he were cross examining them with his.

"Barely anything left but bones. Shame, but what can you do?"

Dipper figured that's why the howning had come to a halt last night. Whatever was out there, it found food. Bill didn't seem too upset by the ordeal, which was for the best, because Bill would have taken out his frustrations on him for sure.

"I guess we were sort of lucky. Well, _you_ were lucky, trying to sleep outside like a sitting duck. I reckon next time we be more prepared, maybe shoot the damn things when we hear 'em." He paused.

"This is my forest."

"Are you angry?"

The hunter audibly inhaled and spoke as he exhaled.

"No.  
But we should get on home. We'll plan better next time."

Dipper emptied the tent so Bill could disassemble it, stuffing everything but the hunter's jacket back into bags sloppily. It was always easier to unpack than it was to make room for everything after, but he managed as the tent was disassembled and packed up as well. He handed Bill his jacket as they geared up to make the trek back home. Dipper felt a chill in the air- he seemed to have higher cold tolerance than the hunter most of the time, and yet here the hunter was fine in a white tank.

The walk back wasn't as bad as Dipper imagined it would be, probably because he was surprisingly well rested. It was quiet, and Dipper was still concerned over the hunter's reaction to having his kill stolen from him in the night. The hunter seemed to be quite sporadic with mood swings, and Dipper was scared something would sway him in the wrong direction.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, kid. In fact, I'm thinking the next trip over. We'll be better prepared next time. Maybe a multi day trip. It'll be great. We can tell each other campfire stories. I can bring a damned tarp or something to protect my kills.

Dipper would try desprately to figure out what caused the hunter to act like he did- why sometimes he'd be alright, like now, but would be tipped over the edge by Dipper going out to get firewood for him- something that Dipper was sure was a set up. It seemed like the hunter was only angry when he wanted to be angry. Or maybe it was something more serious than that- or maybe he just had good and bad days like any regular human being. His anger would have been justified this time, yet he seemed okay. He wasn't a man with mood swings, he was a vile and dangerous monster. The good days did not make up for this or change it, but Dipper tried to take advantage of it when he could. The opportunity for him to be calm and stable did not come often since he fell into his captor's grasp.

It was a lot easier for Dipper to think while he was in motion, so he did a lot of thinking on the walk home. If the gears started turning at night, he was trapped in a small cage, and that usually stopped him from thinking too deeply about things. The opportunity to do so didn't arise often, but given the opportunity, Dipper would pace around the kitchen and living room while he thought. Maybe it was due to his restlessness that he had a hard time thinking while still. On the way home, if he got caught up in thought, he'd often wind up walking ahead of the hunter without thinking about it. The hunter would snap his fingers or curtly say "Hey", Dipper would apologize and return to his side, grateful that he wasn't scolded any further than that.

He also contemplated Bill's drinking habits- he was unclear if they were a _problem_ or not, as Dipper imagined most of the time the hunter was drinking, it was done in private. He'd not really seen him drink around the house, with the possible exception the night that he had gotten attacked by coyotes. There was a heavily stocked liquor cabinet in the kitchen. It wasn't a secret he drank. Even though Dipper contemplated it, he didn't find himself too concerned. Maybe it was a habit Dipper should embrace as a good thing, seeing as it seemed to make Bill docile.

He thought about the sport of hunting in and of itself. Before Bill had his human form, he didn't strike Dipper as the type who would hunt. Causing pain to things, sure, but not _hunting_. He didn't know if Bill still had any of the powers he had before- and if he still did have them, he didn't use them in front of Dipper. Surely it wasn't something worth hiding, especially since Dipper knew he had some sort of demonic powers before he was human. The past wasn't a secret. What Dipper did find peculiar though was how quickly he would recover from physical injuries. He had contemplated the possibilty of some other force at work in that area, his captor healing him when it would benefit him, or choosing to leave him to suffer. He wondered if the hunter would get stir crazy if he didn't go out and kill on a regular basis.

It was too much to think about. Dipper _feared_  the unknown now, rather than being intrigued by it. This was enough fresh air for one day. He wanted to be home, he wanted something to distract him so he'd stop thinking. Thinking only scared him.

 

 

Bill started a pot of coffee when they got home, dropped his bags by the door and dramatically collapsed on the couch. The sun was going down but it was still light out, Dipper guessed it must have been around 5pm. He hung the hunter's bags up next to the door where they had been hanging originally, then brought him his coffee once it was done brewing. As he placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, Bill raised a finger as if to signify he'd remembered something.

"Do you need anything? Should I get sugar?"

"No. Can you..." Bill had a bit of a cheerful tone in his voice, but didn't seem to know what he wanted to ask of Dipper.

"Look, I'm actually really tired. Could you restock the woodshed? Bring in enough wood for the fire after."

"Where do I restock it from?"

"There should be some stacked near the lake out back." He gestured behind him, then stretched out, wheezing in the process.

"Stack it as even as you can, but don't stack it any higher than you are. Understand?"

Dipper nodded and headed for the door.

"Take your time, let me know if you need help. I won't get mad."

"Okay, thanks."

Dipper went to the shed to examine where he was going to stack the wood. They had been running low, but Dipper didn't know they had another supply. Generally firewood wasn't as simple as cutting trees and using the wood- while you could do this, it was best to let wood be weathered, let it be exposed to the elements for a while and dry out before it's used. Usually firewood would be cut the year before it was used, and would be left in the elements instead of put away for immediate use.

He made his way around to the back of the cabin. He hadn't actually had the opportunity to be here before. There was a wooden dock with a small boat tied to the end of it. The lake was a bit larger than Dipper imagined it was, now that he took the time to survey it. It was hard to see out in the distance, but he imagined the stream running through the forest came from or ended up here. Aside from the clearing he was stood on, the lake was surrounded by golden and red trees from every side. It was tragically beautful, a real contrast to what the forest really held. A beauty that wasn't deserved by the man who claimed to own it.

Near the dock was a sizable pile of firewood, made up of probably twice the amount that would fit in the shed. A camouflage tarp just barely covered the top of it, and was held down with some rope and stakes. Dipper moved the tarp and leisurely got to work hauling small amounts of wood over to the shed and back. It was repetitive and mindless work, which calmed him and kept him busy. He took his time and often stopped to admire the lake and its scenery.

It was sunset when he was satisfied with the amount of work he'd done- he'd stocked the shed with about as much firewood as he could. He took a few armfuls for the fireplace and headed back inside. Bill was in the kitchen cooking, the house smelled heavily of hot spices. Dipper's eyes watered- it didn't smell bad, but it was very fragrant and took a few moments to get used to.

"I was just about to come get you, kid. Do you eat curry?"

Dipper carried the armful of firewood over to the rack next to the fireplace. He wondered what the point of his captor asking him what he'd eat was, since it wasn't like he had a choice. He was grateful that he was never a picky eater. He imagined there were worse things that Bill could do to him than let him go hungry.

Bill had brought a plate over to the table for him before he could turn around to properly answer.

"Yeah, sure."

Bill returned to the kitchen to make his own plate at the table. Dipper was glad he was left to eat by himself most of the time- he imagined the hunter would have gotten a kick out of making him uncomfortable by eating with him.

Bill proved to be quite a good cook when he wanted to be, but he didn't particularly seem to enjoy cooking- or maybe he enjoyed cooking but didn't enjoy eating. He was a very protein based cook. Probably the best diet for someone with his lifestyle.

The curry was a bit on the spicy side for what he was used to, but it was manageable. Dipper never really knew what kind of meat that Bill used in his cooking but he knew it would be wise not to ask. Were it venison or something similar, he'd have an easier time eating it if he didn't know for sure what it was. Eating the unknown would get easier as time went on. If Dipper made the mistake of rejecting food given to him, it would be a weak point for his captor to exploit, and it would be best to avoid that altogether. Even if it were "exotic", it must have been safe, Bill ate the same things that he did.

Dipper volunteered to put away the dishes while the hunter started a fire. While the weather was nice during the day, it would get cold once the sun started to set, and either it was getting a lot colder as time went on, or Dipper was growing less tolerant of the cold as time went on. He assumed it was the latter, if it were getting colder by the day then the scenery would change along with it. It was between the beginning and middle of autumn and the trees showed no signs of change yet.

Bill didn't strike Dipper as much of a music person, but every so often he'd put on a record while he read or attempted a crossword. Classical and swing music. Dipper cared for neither, which was probably for the best, else the genres would have been tainted for him. Dipper struggled to get a grasp on what else the hunter would do in his free time- when he was downstairs he'd just read or relax. Upstairs he had what looked like an office from what Dipper could see, but he'd never been up there. There never seemed like a good time to ask about it, if such a thing did exist. Sitting next to the sofa that evening keeping Bill idle company as he read seemed as good of a time as any.

"Can I ask something?"

"You just did, kid."

Dipper let out a halfhearted chuckle before continuing.

"No, I was just curious... what's upstairs? Just storage?"

"Lots of dead things," Bill replied with a smile, without pausing or taking his eyes off his book. "Want to see?"

"No thanks. Sorry."

Bill laughed to himself, crossed his legs and continued reading. Dipper thought some sort of small talk would be healthy for him, but either he was overstepping his boundaries or his captor was simply having none of it. The mixed messages Bill conveyed made everything needlessly uncomfortable even moreso than it already was. Some sort of positive interaction would have gone a mile, or at least make the curcumstances more livable. As it was now, it was always hard for him to read Bill. He never knew when he was safe.

Maybe that was Bill's intentions.  
Bill stretched, his shoulders and back audibly cracking.

"Well, I'm retiring early tonight. Which means you should too. But first I have something for you."

The words didn't sit well with Dipper so he couldn't figure out a fitting way to reply. He inhaled slowly and waited. The hunter stood up and walked to the hallway, stopping in front of Dipper's room, opening the door before pointing towards himself to summon the cervitaur over to look. As Dipper walked over, Bill turned on the lights, Dipper peeked in.

His cage had been replaced with a bed. A mattress at least, no frame. The cage was no longer in the room. Nothing else has been moved or changed.

"We'll figure something out about a frame and proper box spring later, this is all I can do for now."

It was a lot to take in for Dipper, he didn't know if he should consider it a gift, or a gesture, or both.

"I didn't expect this," Dipper tried to fashion a polite and genuine smile at his captor. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it. Good night, kid."

Dipper gave a faint wave to the hunter before closing himself in his bedroom for the night, turning around to examine his new sleeping arrangements. The worrying part about it was that being given a bed solidified the permanence of recent events. This was his room. This was his _home_.

It didn't however negate the fact that that was already the situation before he was given the bed. Most importantly, he was _given a gift_. Dipper must have been doing something right. _He must have been being good_. Figuring out what his captor wanted from him wasn't easy, but for Dipper's sake, it had to happen sooner rather than later. He didn't want to have to go through any more of the hunter's outbreaks, he didn't want any more physical pain inflicted on him. He didn't want any more broken bones. He didn't want to be made to feel like an animal anymore.

He didn't know if his captor viewed him as a human or an animal. Signs would point to both, though you wouldn't openly let an animal get attacked by coyotes for ones own enjoyment, either. Dipper didn't know what he was to Bill in the slightest, but he was taking a step in the right direction, and that filled him with a genuine feeling of at least a small degree of _safety._

He laid down on his new mattress. A pillow and some blankets were placed neatly on it as well. Bill must have moved the cage out while Dipper was restocking the lumber shed. The mattress didn't seem brand new- he wondered if it had always been here or if Bill had gotten it from somewhere else. Perhaps upstairs was another bedroom, a guest bedroom- or just more storage space. Thinking back on it, Dipper realized Bill must have had some active interest in taxidermy. The wall downstairs was lined with all sorts of animal heads. Perhaps the room upstairs that Bill spent time in was used for that, which would explain the response Bill had earlier, which in turn would mean Bill wasn't trying to dismiss Dipper's question about upstairs as he'd thought.

Sleep came quickly for him that night. Bill's gift had made a lot of other things fall into place and make sense to Dipper.

Whether or not that was the reality of the situation was a completely different matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year :D  
> I'm gonna try to write more this year D: not that that'll be hard since I only started writing a few months ago


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill throws some dangerous temper tantrums and gets mad at the food chain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this so long I am so sorry I couldn't figure out a place to break it into two chapters to make it/them smaller

 

 

The next few days were mostly without complication. A couple times Dipper would wake up in the morning to find he was alone, as Bill would often go back into the forest to check his traps, usually right before the sun started to come up. He'd come back with some small things- rabbits, a coyote. He taught the cervitaur how to correctly cut up and cook rabbit- a skill Dipper hoped he'd never have to use himself. He didn't want to admit it to Bill but he was a bit on the squeamish side when it came to directly taking a dead animal and turning it into food. It would be something he'd get used to in time.

Bill would let Dipper help him cook as well- though the kitchen area wasn't particularly large enough for two people to be working in it at the same time. They'd made chili one night, which had come out surprisingly well for how makeshift it was. Bill did not possess usual pantry ingredients- few spices. What vegetables they had were all either dried or dehydrated, and who knows how old they were. Dried vegetables would have a high shelf life, but they were still questionable at best and had next to no nutritional value or taste.

Dipper and his captor had worked together to try and make a bed frame during those few days as well- but given Dipper's obscure and awkward body shape having a frame on the bed made sleeping more difficult. He quickly adapted and figured out different positions he could sleep in comfortably. Though he did eventually adapt as best be could to sleeping in a cage, he would still get his antlers stuck in the cage while he slept, causing him all levels of panic when he woke up, or sometimes being the catalyst to waking him up in the first place.

He also realized he could be thrown back in a cage as easily as he had been given a bed if he did something the hunter was not fond of.

The hunter discussed plans of their next camping trip with Dipper. Dipper was neutral about going camping or hunting again- were it done on good terms, he didn't have much of a reason to dread it, but he lacked the enthusiasm Bill held when it came to outdoor activities such as this. He knew whatever bode well for the hunter would bode well for him too, and vice versa, so he tried to stay positive about it. So long as the hunter didn't try to prey on Dipper's insecurities and concerns, he didn't have much of a reason to be scared. If he weren't being brought into the forest as punishment, he would have the hunter to protect him should anything go wrong.

Bill had woken Dipper up early to go over their final preparations before they left. They planned for a multiple day trip this time. Bill sat in the kitchen reading and revising a checklist as he ate breakfast, chewing his food loudly as he talked. It was one of Dipper's very few pet peeves, and it would take an extended amount of time for him to get used to it. He went through bags as Bill ate to make sure they had everything they'd need. They had overpacked last time for their overnight trip, but they had still packed more today.

"That's everything?" Bill scrutinized his checklist one last time as he got up from the kitchen table, looking over at Dipper as he picked up as much to carry as he could handle.

"That's everything."

The hunter's habit of over preparing for time away from home always seemed out of place, a contrast to the amount of care he put into other fields of his life and hobbies. He wasn't likely to get them lost, and it wasn't as if they were travelling too far. It was better this way, but seemed strange nonetheless.

"Here," Bill took a second holstered rifle off the wall and put it around Dipper's shoulders. "I think if opportunity knocks, I can teach you to shoot. It'll be fun."

Dipper wouldn't really fancy shooting something himself, but he wasn't going to contest. It seemed like a positive gesture to offer to teach him at very least. What shocked him more was the fact that Bill would trust him with a weapon like this. Bill must trust him more than he trusted Bill at this point, but he wasn't going to test that theory.

"Don't worry, it's not loaded." Bill picked up the rest of their gear and they headed out the door. Bill took one last glance around the house before locking up and they were on their way.

Instead of going the route they had taken previously, they went behind the cabin and down near the lake, following a distinguishable path alongside the right of it. It was scenic, but it made Dipper question the vastness of the forest that Bill claimed to belong to him. He didn't know, nor did he have no way of knowing how far they were to any sort of civilization or how far the forest stretched on for. He had no way of knowing without asking, but he knew to Bill there would be no good reason to ask. He was curious however, because he wondered how the hunter got on so well in the middle of nowhere without the conveniences of modern civilization. Of course, he also wanted to know in case opportunity knocked and he could escape. He wanted to know in case others would enter the forest either wandering, or specifically looking for him. If Dipper could manage to get lost here, someone else could too, though they clearly didn't share the same fate as him.

_Dipper wished he hadn't thought of this._

The lake stretched on a lot further than Dipper had thought. It fed into a few large streams, one of which they had to tread through carefully. While not very deep or dangerous, wading through water was an inconvenience, and being wet after was going to be uncomfortable. Dipper reckoned he could have leapt it if he wasn't carrying half their gear with him, but he wouldn't have wanted to risk getting any of it wet anyway. Out of all that they packed, waterproof boots or clothing did not seem to be part of it. Surely the trip was planned and Bill knew they'd be traversing through water.

With a look of disgust, Bill carefully waded into the stream, grabbing Dipper's wrist and guiding him through as well- which was needless to Dipper, as the water did not bother or effect him on nearly the same level as his captor. It wouldn't be him carrying on with wet clothing.

The current was a bit stronger than Dipper thought and he found himself glad he had his captor's help crossing. Looking back at the stream, he wasn't so sure he could have jumped it after all.

The second stream they came across they decided to follow alongside it instead.

"How are you holding out, kid?" It had been just about the first thing Bill had said since they left.

"I'm fine... but do we know where we're going?" Dipper had started to wonder if Bill even knew.

"We're going camping. It's not like we're going to get lost. I know my way around."

Dipper wasn't so sure, but the reassurance was encouraging. He wasn't as concerned as he likely brought himself off to be, but it was the only conversation he could think of making.

They followed the stream for what felt like about an hour before settling on a place to set up a campsite. They strayed a bit from the stream as Bill insisted it wouldn't be a good idea to set up too close to it. It would be a lot colder near the water as it got dark. Bill cleared a place to pitch the tent as Dipper cleared the ground for a fire pit. All of their supplies had been placed near where the tent was being pitched, and most everything was moved into the tent once it was set up.

"I've got to change out of these godforsaken clothes. Give me a minute..." Bill disappeared into the tent. Guess the water had got to him after all. Dipper gathered kindling for later while Bill was busy until something caught his eye in the distance, in the direction they were heading before they stopped.

What looked to be one lone elk was slowly passing through. Far enough away where it may not have seen the campsite should it look in this direction, but Dipper didn't want to chance it with any sudden movements. He slowly crouched and stayed silent, waiting for Bill to hurry up.

Bill unzipped the tent and carefully crouched out of it, not yet aware of what was happening.

"Honestly I don't think camo suits me. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing it unless I..."

Dipper slowly gestured to the elk in the distance without looking over at the hunter. The hunter squinted as he tried to search for what the cervitaur was pointing at, taking a few moment before he was able to successfully focus on the elk, which had since paused and was standing in place, sniffing at the ground. Dipper looked over at Bill, who had changed out his clothes for a pair of camouflage trousers and matching tank top, along with a pair of leather hiking boots. He would have been better off wearing those from the start, but he never seemed to really dress for the occasion. He clearly wasn't planning on having to change.

"Get down, kid."

Bill knelt down and carefully got his rifle from their pile of equipment as Dipper got as close to the ground as he could. Bill shook slightly, presumably with some sort of excitement or adrenaline rush, as he tried to load his rifle as carefully as he could. His concentration was cut short by a piercing yelp in the distance. A moderately large pack of what looked to be wolves appeared from the distance and were taking down the lone elk.

Usually elk traveled in large herds so there was a distinct possibility they had caused this one to separate from the rest of the herd, and that's why it was alone. If that were the case though, the elk probably wouldn't have been leisurely strolling through the forest when Dipper first saw him.

Within a fraction of a minute the elk was motionless on the ground, what looked like six or more grey and black wolves tearing it to shreds and devouring it. Bill watched it with disbelief, and Dipper turned his concern and focus to him. Bill cringed, pressing his hands to either side of his temples, obviously in some sort of distress. Dipper observed him with uncertainty, fearing anything he could say would have potential to make the situation worse. On top of that, it would only take the pack so long to eat the elk and turn their attention to something else. That something else could be _them_.

"Are you okay? Do we have to move camp?" Dipper asked hesitantly.

It was a new situation for him. Though the hunter has been annoyed before, it looked to Dipper like he was really struggling with himself to stay collected. He was physically _struggling_. Bill directed his attention back to the wolves, who had all but picked the carcass clean within a matter of sheer minutes. When they were done they trotted off in the direction they had come from, Bill and Dipper's presence either unbeknownst to them, or they did not have interest in investigating further. It was hard to tell.

"Are you okay?" Dipper asked again, trying to project concern in his voice. He got up carefully, the wolves were out of sight.

"What just happened? It was _right there_." Bill faintly gestured in the direction where the elk was. " _Right there_."

"It was right there." His voice grew louder and angrier. "It was mine and it was _taken from me_."

"We can find another. There's bound to be more. There's probably a whole herd of them, they are herd ani-"

Without warning Bill swung around and smacked him in the face as hard he could. The right side of his face grew red almost immediately and his vision had gone white for a few moments before he could fully register what had happened. Bill did not give it a second thought, did not stop to reflect on what he'd done. Instead he kneeled down and rummaged through his bags looking for something.

The distinct taste of blood filled Dipper's mouth as he tried to remain calm. It _hurt_. It was nothing compared to what else he'd experienced during the past couple weeks, but he had been completely caught off guard. He felt any progress he had made with getting on his captor's good side had just been abolished. He took a heavy inhale and bit his lip, trying not to cry. He knew the best thing he could do was to not react to what Bill had done, he didn't want to give Bill a reaction that would encourage him to do it again. He didn't want Bill to think he was trying to make the situation about him.

"Well I've got a great idea at least." Bill continued looking through his bags until he found what he was looking for- he pulled out some steel cables and examined them with care before his face broke into a concerning smile. He looked over at Dipper.

"How do you feel about being live bait? Wait, no, don't tell me, I don't care."

Dipper shook his head to contest and took a step back. Instinct tried to kick in and he turned to flea, but his captor grabbed onto his chain before he could manage. He yanked the chain upwards causing Dipper to gag, proving to be an effective way of stopping him in his tracks. Bill did not further react to the fact that Dipper had tried to flea for potentially the first time. Admittedly he was probably safer here than he would have been had he ran off, even given the circumstances.

"Bill, please, don't. There has to be some other way. Please calm down."

He gave up on trying not to cry in front of Bill. It was the same uncomfortably familiar routine he'd gone through before. Bill pulling his arms behind his back to tie them up.

"Calm down?" He attached the steel cable to Dipper's collar, giving him the opportunity to follow obediently so that he didn't have to drag him along. Something felt different this time to Dipper, not necessarily different in a good or bad way, just different somehow. Maybe it was because the hunter's concerns weren't in the same place they were this time. He was angry, but he wasn't angry at Dipper. It felt like a completely different kind of anger. Bill led Dipper further into the forest, closer to where the elk had been. Dipper spared both of them the trouble of having to drag him along against his will.

"You're telling me to calm down while you're standing there shaking like some sort of scared child?"

Somehow the words were reassuring to Dipper, but not enough to calm him down.

"What are you going to let happen to me?" Dipper's voice cracked as he spoke, but he realized he wasn't as scared as he thought he was. Bill led him to a nearby tree, looped the cable around it and hooked it. It was becoming a familiar situation to Dipper, but something seemed different.

"Well," Bill was half preoccupied with making sure his rifle was correctly loaded. "Ideally, the wolves hear you in distress and come back for seconds. I kill them. We get on with our camping trip uninterrupted."

"You can't kill them _all_. There's no way. Can't we think of something else?"

Bill thoughtfully circled around Dipper slowly to observe him from all angles.

"Kid, first you tell me to calm down. You tell me what to do, and then you try to tell me what I _can't_ do?" Bill seemed to have calmed down at least, in a way, and in turn Dipper calmed down a little as well. The chances of the wolves actually returning would be slim. Wolves hunted for food, but did not kill for sport, and probably did not have a reason to come back after they had left. Unfortunately, that would not sit well with the hunter. Dipper was in a lose lose situation- again. Bill made his way up the tree he'd fastened Dipper to and sat securely on the branch closest to the ground, hunching forward and folding his hands underneath his chin, fondly watching Dipper.

"Well, make a bunch of noise or something, go on."

He gestured to the cervitaur. The cervitaur shook his head with uncertainty- not with the intent of deliberately disobeying what he'd been told to do, but because he couldn't physically bring himself to do it. The likelihood of it resulting in anything was slim under any other circumstances- but these weren't normal circumstances, and more than likely, Bill knew better than him. Bill knew what he was doing and how to get the desired outcome. He knew better than Dipper. Maybe luring them out to take care of them was the safest thing for both of them.

Maybe Bill really knew what he was doing. Maybe he only restrained Dipper because running away would have been more dangerous than staying. Maybe this was for their safety.

Defeated, Dipper looked up at the hunter, inhaled and shook his head slightly. He felt to some degree he had given up, he was submitting to the hunter. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, and being tied up there was nothing else he could do.

Before the hunter had time to react to Dipper disobeying him or make any further demands, a lone mass approached cautiously from the distance. Bill watched motionlessly for a moment before gesturing to the cervitaur to turn around. A single wolf appeared from the same directions the others had previously left.

Bill and Dipper's presence were not unknown to the wolf and the wolf was not unknown to them. As it approached, it slowed down, eyes fixed on the cervitaur. The cervitaur looked up at Bill for help, for a signal of some sort.

"I can't take on a wolf. I can't do it. I'll get killed." He stayed still, hoping the hunter would intervene in some way. He couldn't run. It was clear the wolf saw both of them. The only thing Dipper could do was hope the hunter would keep him safe.

Quite large and quite thin. The wolf was a mixture of red and brown, with a muddy white underbelly. It made no attempts at concealing itself as it approached, seeming to be aware that it was seen. Dipper didn't move, as any kind of movement could spell out the end for him. He stayed frozen in place as the wolf drew closer. Bill stayed silent.

It seemed that it wasn't interested in attacking as it approached. It slowed and kept its distance from them, head lowered and eyes focused solely on Dipper. Dipper remained frozen in fear, hoping the wolf wasn't waiting for the rest of its pack. This wolf was definitely alone for the time being. It approached the cervitaur carefully, circling around it and sniffing at its legs.

"This is it," Dipper thought to himself. Every second seemed like an eternity. He knew the hunter was holding out to see if more came before he took a shot at it, as the noise would surely drive other wildlife away, but Dipper just hoped he'd get it over and done with before it was too late.

Dipper's life must not have held any special importance to Bill after all, seeing as he was willing to chance it just for the opportunity of killing more than the one lone wolf. He should have kept that rifle with him that he'd been given before they left. Surely though, if the wolf showed any sign of aggression, Bill would take care of it before it could do anything. This thought brought him some peace of mind. He reflected on the fact that he wasn't as scared as he initially was.

The wolf showed no signs of aggression, no signs of anything. It sniffed around at the cervitaur's feet, as if it were trying to figure out what the cervitaur _was_. Maybe the wolf knew that he wasn't an average deer.

Something wasn't right. There was something very, very wrong with the situation and Dipper struggled to figure out what it was.

"Hey... Hey there..." Dipper spoke as calmly as he could, but he felt his voice shake. The wolf looked up at Dipper with black, interested eyes. _Something wasn't right_.

Slowly, he held his hand out to the wolf. There was an ill-conceived notion that you would prove to an animal that you're friendly by sticking your hand out for it to smell. Generally this wasn't very wise. With canines, you would avoid facing them from the front to show you did not want confrontation. The wolf thankfully did not seem to take it as a threat and instead stuck its head forward to sniff his hand.

_Bang._

Absolutely no warning. Dipper fell back in fear as the wolf's head near exploded, ears ringing. The wolf collapsed with a solid _thud_ on the ground.

"Yeah, you're welcome," The hunter dropped down from his branch and dusted himself off before pensively walking over to the cervitaur and the deceased wolf. As Dipper came to his senses, he realized how close Bill would have been to shooting his hand. He was either one hell of a good shot, or he didn't care much about what he was aiming at.

"What the hell were you doing? You don't stick your damned hand in a wild animal's face. It thinks you're food. Would you stick your hand in a bear trap?"

Bill grabbed Dipper's hand to examine it. Bill's hands were much warmer in comparison. The wolf had not touched Dipper's hand nor showed any signs of wanting to attack. Perhaps the wolf had thought it couldn't take on Dipper without the rest of its pack, or maybe it was simply curious and didn't know what Dipper _was_.

Maybe it did know, and that's why it was curious.

Dipper was taken aback by the hunter's concern over his actions. It was quite the contrast from him lashing out earlier. He must have known what he was doing even if Dipper did not.

Bill slowly walked around the wolf to examine it, then turned it over with his foot.

"So is this it?" Mildly irritated, he stepped on the wolves' head as to prove his domain over the creature as his anger grew. Perhaps it was best to let him deal with his emotions like this instead of risking his own safety.

"Where's your friends? Where are your god damned friends, huh?" Repeatedly, he stomped the wolves' skull into the dirt. The crunch was sickening. Dipper had to look away. Bill spat upon the remains of the creature's head. He grimaced, mouth quivering with rage, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. Dipper turned around to look.

He found it almost sad in a way, Bill was clearly struggling with trying to maintain his composure, like he didn't _want_ to be angry. It was different from the other times, where he almost seemed to like being upset. Dipper recalled the time he had been set up to leave the house and how the hunter reacted then. This was definitely a different and more sincere sort of anger. Dipper felt all he could do was give the hunter some space.

Perhaps the difference was that the hunter wasn't angry at _him_ but something else. It was a first all right.

Bill put a hand on his hip, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily before turning to look at Dipper.

"Well, I don't know what this means. I don't know how to deal with this. They need to die, all of them. All of them. They taunt me, kid. This isn't their territory and they know it. It was never their territory."

To Dipper's surprise, Bill unhooked him from the tree and removed the cables from his arms.

"Do we just do this over and over again? Pick them off _one by one_? They're nothing but scavengers at this point. All they've done is taken what's mine."

This is how nature worked though. The hunter's reactions started to seem a little out of place to Dipper. Wolves were near the top of the natural food chain. Bill wasn't supposed to be part of this food chain in the first place.

"And after we went out of our way to purposely avoid them? I give them more respect than they deserve."

Dipper hadn't thought about that before- yes, that must have been why they didn't go the same place they did the last time they went out. Maybe Bill's priority was to coexist with the wolves. It seemed they weren't having any of it though.

"Would... you have better luck if I weren't here? Am I a burden?" Dipper felt it was a risky question to ask, but he felt he needed to say something.

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know," Bill looked at him with amusement.

"I wouldn't really know. With or without you I haven't really been at this for too long, as you can imagine. Besides I don't really have a choice in bringing you along unless I'm not going to be gone for long."

Dipper opened his mouth to contest before realizing that's probably what Bill was setting him up to do. He remained silent. A smug grin broke out on Bill's face for a second before it contorted back into a grimace. He nudged the dead creature with his boot one more time before picking up its tail to drag it back to the camp. Dipper wished he would have just left it there- not only did it hold the risk of attracting unwanted company, but it was _disgusting_. Its pelt would have been near useless as its head was completely mangled. Not a very attractive trophy. He'd never heard of eating wolf meat, but he surely wouldn't put it past the hunter to try anyway in an attempt to prove his place in the food chain and his dominance over the creature. If he did take the meat for eating, Dipper hoped it was indistinguishable in taste, he wasn't sure if he could stomach eating it otherwise. Eating meat that had already been cut up and prepared was one thing, sure, but eating the remains of a creature whose head you saw explode a foot in front of your face was a different situation entirely.

On top of this, there was something that didn't sit well with Dipper. Were it a dangerous animal then he'd feel better, but once he realized the creature had no interest in hurting him and absolutely no interest in Bill whatsoever, killing it and mangling its head didn't seem right. Dipper found it easy to empathize with creatures that were friendly. It helped him accept who he was and who he'd become.

That, in turn, made something feel very off about the wolf and the whole situation.

Dipper at his side, Bill dragged the carcass back to camp and started a fire. From the looks of it he didn't plan on looking for anything else for the rest of the night, so they hung around camp.

Bill hung the wolf up from a tree by its back leg with some wire to start skinning it. Dipper tried not to watch, but sometimes curiosity got the best of him. As the process continued, the camp started to smell of death.

"The fur's got to be good for something. A rug or something." Dipper realized neither of them had really said anything as the night went on. At least the hunter seemed to be calming down, then again he was doing one of his favourite things, or Dipper assumed that to be the case. Aside from the fire, the forest was eerily silent.

"It'd be easier to skin something like you, do you know how hard it is to successfully skin feet? What, with the webbing and everything? It's not easy. Hooves make it easier in that regard."

Dipper was uncomfortable for the rest of the night while the hunter was preoccupied with cleaning up his recent kill. He impressively did manage to skin what was left of the creature in one piece, and after he was done he worked on cutting up the creature's flesh. Dipper thought it couldn't smell worse before- he was wrong. He tried to ignore the process best he could, but his curiosity would get the best of him and he'd look over once in a while to see the creature, still hung up by its back leg, having its flesh picked apart and stuffed into plastic bags. As grotesque as it was, he was glad the creature's head had been mangled. It made it easier to forget it was a living creature not long ago.

The hunter had seemed satisfied with the amount of work he'd done- it was well past dark now, fire still in full swing. He took what was left of the carcass down from the tree. From what Dipper could see, the hunter had left a lot of meat on the creature. It looked like most of the blood from it was now on Bill's shirt and hands. Dipper reflected on how seemingly desensitized the hunter was to this sort of thing. He could only hope he'd be able to be even a fraction as desensitized as him in due time. Hopefully he'd get used to it sooner rather than later.

"I'm bringing the rest of this back where I found it. Stay put."

Dipper wasn't exactly raring to go running off into the forest at night, so he stayed put. It was only a few minutes walk away anyway, Bill would be there and back within a few minutes.

He sat near the fire and let it warm his fur. So long as the rest of the night stayed quiet and peaceful, he planned to sleep outside. He meant to ask the hunter about bringing a second tent, as he was sure they had multiple, but he never found a good time to ask, and flat out forgot to as they were preparing for their current trip. He hoped for his own sake nothing else exciting happened tonight, as it wouldn't pair well with the hunter's poor mood.

His face still stung from when Bill had struck him earlier, but it didn't affect him as much as he thought it would. He wasn't angry at Dipper, he was just... angry. If Dipper didn't cause it, it meant he might be able to help.

Dipper's thoughts were interrupted with the sound of gunshot.

His instincts told him not to move a muscle. Now it was even more quiet than before. After the initial shock had passed, he very carefully got up from next to the fire, grabbed the other rifle from next to the tent and headed off silently in the direction Bill had gone, clutching the rifle as if someone were about to pry it away from him.

Not quite to his surprise Bill was back in the tree he'd been earlier. A pack of six or more wolves were below, tearing at the remains of the carcass the hunter had brought over. They were completely disinterested in Bill.

He'd likely expected the cervitaur to come to his aid and ushered him over, gesturing to the rifle he'd carried over. The cervitaur held it up for him to take. His other one must not have been loaded.

The reality of the situation kicked in, there was a pack of wolves not ten feet from where Dipper was standing. More than likely the pack from before. While they were completely disinterested in both him and the hunter, it probably wouldn't stay that way once the wolves were finished with the carcass.

"Bill, what do I do? Can you help me up? Please help me." Dipper talked urgently and quietly, Bill ignored him as he made sure his rifle was loaded and took aim at another one of the wolves.

The noise of the shot startled the wolves for only a moment as one of them fell to the ground, they either didn't care or did not notice their fallen pack member before they continued eating. Very unnatural behavior for wolves, unless they were starving to death.

The hunter took another shot at one of the wolves, startling the rest of the pack for a moment. This time though some of them looked over at Dipper, who was in the direction the noise came from, as the rest resumed eating. Dipper was paralyzed in panic.

This would be it for him. Running would only prolong what would only be certain death, there was no way he felt he could outrun them, and if he could it wouldn't be for long.

The hunter fired one more shot, this time in the stomach of one of the more alert wolves. It yelped and fell to the ground in agony, but was far from dead. To Dipper's surprise, the rest of the wolves ran back off into the forest seemingly without a second thought about their fallen members, as if their fear and survival instincts were on a timer that kicked in a few deaths too late.

Bill let himself down from the tree, walked over to Dipper and shook him by the shoulders gently before slowly walking to the bloody mess of wolves in front of them. The one that Bill had shot in the stomach frantically tried to get up, but its back end would give out before it could get anywhere near standing. It looked at the hunter, mouth agape and snarling. It frantically snapped at the hunter, who was standing just outside of the injured creature's range, staring down at it with a satisfied, loving smile.

"You will die by my hand, you disgusting mutt. As well as the rest of you, should I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again."

He slowly placed one foot over the creature's head. To Dipper's surprise, the wolf did not retaliate and instead held still as if accepting its fate.

"Find your own home. Do not encroach on mine."

The wolf let out a distressed, high pitched whine as Bill dug his heel into its head. Happy with the amount of pain he'd caused to it, he lifted his foot from the creature as it got up and limped back into the forest, tail between its legs. Bill watched with a smile, as if admiring a job well done. Dipper's heart dropped as the hunter turned to face him, scared he was about to suffer an even worse fate.

"Come on, we're going home."

Bill grabbed Dipper by the arm and led him back to camp.

"Just take what you can carry, don't worry about the tent or putting out the fire."

"Why? It's dark, and who knows what's out there. Shouldn't we wait until morning?" Dipper wasn't going to press on the matter, as Bill probably knew what was best. Still, it seemed like the absolute most dangerous thing they could choose to do.

"No, kid, we're going _now_."

They left the tent and brought the rest of their belongings with them. Dipper worried most about leaving the fire unattended, but the fire had been made safely, and should burn out safely before morning.

They walked home quietly and briskly, the hunter holding on to Dipper's upper arm, guiding him to make sure he kept up. Dipper felt he may not have been able to otherwise, he couldn't see very well in the dark- and it was certainly dark.

"Are we running from something?"

"We're not running, so no."

Back through the creek. The water was a lot colder now, and from the looks of it it took its toll on them both. Bill's grip on the cervitaur's arm was shaky for the rest of the trip home.

It was hard to say what time they got home, but it must have been at least midnight or later judging by how long it had been dark. Bill unlocked the door, ushering the cervitaur in before locking the door behind them. He threw some wood on the fire and lit it up before hurriedly taking his bags and disappearing into his room, emerging not minutes later in dry clothes. Plain black sweat pants and a black turtleneck, probably the most casual Dipper had seen him in. He looked at Dipper and let out a quiet and concerned sigh.

"Look, it's late, you get cleaned up and head to bed." He headed into the kitchen, standing on his toes to look out the window.

"Are you okay?" Dipper asked before he turned for the hallway. Bill pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before reaching over to grab a bottle out of the liqueur cabinet.

"Yes. It's late, get cleaned up and go to bed."

Dipper let out a small defeated sigh before heading into the bathroom. He turned on the sink to let the water run until it was hot so he could wash his legs and face off, not realizing how cold he was until he did so. He took the liberty of cleaning the sink and floor when he was done. Seeing blood in the bathroom every time he used it was mildly concerning, but he'd rather erase the problem and pretend it didn't exist rather than ask about it.

Quietly exiting the bathroom, he saw Bill was laying on his back on the couch, legs crossed, staring at the ceiling, drinking again.

"Sorry, do... we have any extra blankets? It's kind of cold."

"It's cold because it's late." Bill slowly pointed to the stairs without looking over. "Up and to the left. Take what you need, I guess."

"Thanks." Dipper awkwardly made his way up the stairs. It was one thing that was easier on two legs.

The room on the left looked like it was just used for storage- lots of dusty boxes, clear plastic bins. Dipper found one of the bins to have a mix of towels and thin blankets in it. He took one of the blankets and left before he had a chance to grow curious about what else was in the room.

Getting down the stairs was slightly more of a feat than getting up them. Bill chuckled quietly at the sight.

"Do you need help?"

"Oh, no.. I'm sure I'll get used to it if I have to." Dipper made his way safely to the floor and headed to the hallway. "Good night- thanks for the extra blanket."

"Good night, kiddo."

Quietly shutting himself in his room, he reflected on the fact that something didn't feel right. He held the blanket to his face and inhaled slowly, trying to clear his mind so he could get some sleep. He paced, he tried to shut out negative thoughts. He laid down on his bed, but couldn't manage to close his eyes- so he waited. Enough light shined in through the bottom of the door for Dipper to reflect on how empty it was in here. It didn't bother him, but he had nothing to focus on.

After a while it was clear that sleep wasn't coming to him. Stomach in a knot, Dipper got up and left his room against his best judgment. Bill was still where Dipper left him. Still awake.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I just need a glass of water. I can't sleep. Sorry."

"Well that makes two of us. Difference is I'm used to not being able to sleep." Bill coughed and wheezed, tried to stifle himself for a moment, then coughed again. Dipper watched with awkward concern as he went to the kitchen to get water for himself.

"Save me a trip and bring me a bottle of gin- or whatever's within reach in the liqueur cabinet. I'm not feeling picky."

Dipper bit his lip and sighed, reaching up to get a bottle for the hunter. He didn't do good with this kind of thing- not because of bad experiences with it, but because it was never a part of his life. He didn't know how he'd adapt to living with someone who was turning out to be an alcoholic. He figured all he could really do is try to avoid him at night. He carefully brought the bottle over to Bill and put it next to him on the coffee table. The bottle from before was empty and on the floor. Bill looked up at him and forced a quick smile.

"What are you worried about?" Bill asked the cervitaur as he took the other bottle off the table, examining the label on the back. Dipper wasn't sure what he was referring to.

"What do you mean? I just can't seem to sleep is all." He paused before continuing. "I'll try not to let it happen."

Bill chuckled to himself before holding the side of his own forehead.

"Do you think I'm mad? I'm not mad." He paused.

"I'm not mad about what happened today either. Well, not mad at you."

He pursed his lips and looked over at Dipper before giving him a brief and sincere smile, focusing on his bottle again.

"I didn't mean to hit you. I need to work on that."

It sounded like he struggled to say it, either because he was drinking or because it was otherwise just plain hard for him to say. Unfortunately it was hard for Dipper to hear as well, though he wasn't really sure why, it just caught him off guard.

"Oh... no, it's fine. I deserved it." His instincts said to just go with it. He felt like he did deserve it, but at the same time, the hunter's attempt at an apology made him feel at ease- happy in a way. Maybe he wasn't messing up as much as he had thought. Even though he did feel he had deserved it, he was thankful Bill was willing to reflect on his actions to any degree- even if it only happened because he was drinking. If he felt bad about something he did, maybe he enjoys Dipper's company to at least some small degree.

Bill clutched his forehead and winced for a moment before exhaling, lifting his head up slightly to take a long drink from his bottle.

"I'm sorry. I'd say I won't do it again, but I don't want to wind up lying. You understand. But I'll work on it."

A worried, sympathetic smile broke out on Dipper's face. The hunter apologizing was a strange thing to witness, but it made Dipper feel safe to some degree. In turn, it made watching Bill a little painful. Bill winced again.

"I feel sick, kid."

Dipper took the bottle of gin back from him. Bill didn't have the reflexes to protest or try hanging on to it.

"I didn't mean that kind of sick. Give it back."

Dipper took a step back and shook his head slightly. Bill turned his head to look at him and reached out in his direction.

"I didn't mean it, I'm fine. Please give it back." Dipper looked back at him, painfully shaking his head, biting his lip.

"Please." Dipper did nothing. Bill made no attempts at moving other than lowering his hand. He frowned.

"I need it."

Dipper's eyes watered up. Even he didn't know why he was trying to stop his captor.

"Go to bed, Bill."

"You go to bed. Give it back." He paused. "I lied, I'm not sorry."

Dipper shook his head and tried not to cry.

"Kid, please don't mess with me. I don't do games. I'll beat the shit out of you."

Dipper attempted to cover his face with his hand and sobbed. Tears fell down his face. He couldn't bring himself to speak, and if he could he wouldn't know what to say. He didn't know what he was doing.

"I'll kill you." Bill turned to lay on his side, facing away from Dipper. "I'm going to literally kill you."

Dipper tried to get a grip on his emotions so he could justify himself and convey that he was worried.

"I'm sorry, Bill. I don't know what to do. But it hurts to just stand here and watch you just... make yourself sick." He paused, there was silence.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, Bill. I won't be awake to stop you from now on. I just got worried, but... you know better than me."

More silence.

"Bill?" Dipper cautiously walked over to the side of the couch, staying at arm's length. Bill was asleep- or passed out. For the best. Dipper put the bottles back in the cabinet silently, wiping tears from his eyes before heading for his room for the remainder of the night. He carefully shut himself in and looked at the door handle, wishing it had a lock.

He laid down and feared what tomorrow would bring, until fear finally gave way to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small bit of trivia i almost had bill start off with a pet wolf or a pair of them but i didnt know how i could have included them into the story without them playing too big of a role. their main purpose would have been to demonstrate that bill took better care of them than he did of dipper
> 
> i also considered making bill nonchalantly kill and eat them to freak dipper out


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Dipper go on a nice fishing day trip!

 

Dipper awoke to moderate silence the next day, the small window flooding his room with indirect sunlight. It was peaceful enough that it took him several minutes of lying awake to remember the previous night, and in remembering he was jolted awake and alert. Feeling nauseous, he carefully got up and waited, waited for some sort of sign or idea of what would be safest for him to do, and trying to calm himself down. He couldn't hide in his room, but he couldn't bring himself to leave either. He didn't know if his captor was awake or even home. If he wasn't awake, then the worst would be yet to come.

Dipper pressed his ear against the door and listened- which proved to be unnecessary as he heard heavy footsteps walk by his door, then walk back a few moments later- something that probably would have woken him up were he still sleeping. Well, Bill was awake, and the fact that he didn't wake up Dipper could probably only be a good thing. He pressed his ear to the door again to listen, it sounded like the hunter was walking around in the kitchen. He took a moment to reflect on how good his hearing was- either that or it wasn't as hard to hear through a cheap door. He wondered if anything would come from him trying to listen through the wall at night- he was next to Bill's bedroom after all. It was a passing thought, as he didn't particularly have a reason to do such a thing, and Bill probably did the same thing to him more often than not.

Slowly he exited his room, closing the door behind him, but not quietly enough to make it seem like he was sneaking around. Bill was in the kitchen cleaning off the stove top. Admittedly it was the first time Dipper had seen him cleaning, but the house never seemed to be in a mess anyway, aside from the bathroom.

"Oh, there you are," Bill talked without turning to look at the cervitaur. "I didn't want to wake you."

It seemed he wasn't angry, at least. And he was wide awake himself- he always seemed to be wide awake regardless of how long he slept. How long he slept was unknown to Dipper, but he seemed to always be awake before him, despite going to sleep after him. Why he didn't wake Dipper up more often was a mystery, surely he'd enjoy the company, especially at the cervitaur's expense.

"What... time is it?" Dipper felt really awkward, not knowing if the hunter remembered the previous night and not knowing what would be coming back to bite him. Cheerful as the hunter seemed, he was known to turn the tables in an instant.

Bill looked out the window to humour Dipper before looking back at him, shrugging.

"Well... it's light out, is that time enough for you?"

Bill was known to run on his own internal clock and Dipper knew this, but didn't know what else to say without risking his own skin.

"It's been light out for a while actually, maybe I should have woken you up earlier."

"Sorry."

Bill washed his hands in the sink before taking a hand towel to dry them, turning around to face Dipper with a smug smile.

"Well, what are you sorry for?"

Dipper walked into that one. There were a few moments of awkward silence before Bill took pity on him and changed the subject.

"I'm thinking we take the boat out and go fishing today, what do you think? It'd be a nice change of pace."

It did sound like a nice idea. Fresh air while staying close to home. The suggestion reassured Dipper that either Bill didn't remember the previous night, or he wasn't angry about it. He wasn't sure which would have been better.

"I don't actually fish much. It's a lot of waiting around and doing nothing. And some people... catch fish, and then throw them back?" He snorted trying to hold back a laugh, looking out the window, alert. "Why would you throw away food?"

Hunting was a lot of waiting around doing nothing as well, but Dipper wasn't about to educate Bill on that fact. At least fishing was impersonal. He couldn't look at a fish and see himself in it.

Much to Dipper's liking, there was little to prepare for fishing, at least compared to their hunting trips. Despite how much they'd pack for hunting, they never seemed to be ready to tackle the problems that were thrown at them. Fishing would be a nice change of pace, not that it was directly comparable with hunting anyway. It would be a safe day for Dipper to live through.

It was a nice day out- it was a bit windy at times, but quite warm when the wind let up. Bill wore a thin jacket instead of his coat, and they brought with them a metal, olive coloured tackle box from the shed, an empty cooler and a fishing rod- from the looks of it, Bill only had one.

The boat Bill had tied next to the dock looked to be a wooden canoe- a bit shorter than a standard canoe, but could fit two people and some supplies with enough room to be comfortable. Bill carefully stepped into the canoe, ushering Dipper to follow him and untie it from the dock once they were both securely in. When Dipper did so he realized it was a fair bit colder near the water- but the sunlight was nice, and hopefully it wouldn't get much colder. Two paddles were secured to the inside of the canoe with some rope. Bill released them and used them to steer the canoe out into the open.

Again, Dipper reflected on how the lake looked smaller from the house- but it was actually quite large and open. The water looked clean as well. Bill stopped the boat presumably around the middle to end of the lake after a moderately long and quiet trip out. The lake was surrounded with golden trees. Dipper realized the seasons had shown no signs of change since he'd gotten here. At least it was scenic.

Bill fumbled with the tackle box.

"There's another lake a good distance from here, actually. I'm not sure if anything's living it though, but it sure... _looks_ nice. We should camp around there some time."

He picked through the box until he found some sort of bait and attached it to the end of his line before casting it out a good distance from the boat. Dipper watched for a moment before the awkwardness set in- while he generally was a captive audience, this was a new experience. While everything seemed alright, he didn't really know what would break the hunter's concentration or if concentration was even part of fishing. He stared out into the water, relaxed by the sun.

"So... can you swim?" Bill broke the silence after a few minutes, for once Dipper was glad. He didn't feel like he was in the clear and forgiven for last night, so anything that insinuated he was on good terms with his captor was welcome to him.

"I'm not sure. I used to be able to, but I also had less legs..." Dipper had a hard time talking in situations where he had to acknowledge he wasn't as human as he used to be. It would be easier if he wasn't blatantly opening himself up to ridicule and humiliation by doing so.

"I'm sure I could now."

"Well, go try." Bill gestured vaguely to the water in front of Dipper, who frowned in confusion for a moment before forcing himself to stop frowning.

"What, really?"

"What? No. You'd scare away all the fish and contaminate the water in the process. The fish would probably start growing legs and walking out of the water..." Bill laughed at his hypothetical situation. Dipper politely and half heartedly laughed along with him.

Before Dipper could register that something had taken a bite at the lure, Bill quickly and calmly reeled in the line, flashing a satisfied grin at Dipper before pulling the line into the boat. It looked to be some sort of trout- a small trout, but a trout nonetheless. Bill grabbed the struggling fish and released it from the line, going through his tackle box with the other hand. Pulling out a knife, he held the fish down on the boat and drove the knife into its skull, wiggling it around until the fish went limp. Dipper knew nothing about fishing outside of catch and release, so he didn't expect this, and turned his body away violently at the gruesome sight. The scraping was the worst, sending chills down the cervitaur's spine. After the fish had gone limp, the hunter threw it in the cooler and looked over at Dipper before adjusting and recasting his line.

"What? It's the most humane way to kill it. It didn't feel a thing." There was a cheerful and reassuring tune to his voice, but the fact he was concerned with being humane in any way was a first for Dipper to witness.

"If we get anything big, we get to crack its skull with a hammer before stabbing its brain, that way it's stunned before it dies and won't be able to feel itself dying. Try not to think about the fact we'll be eating these."

Over time they managed to catch more, but none much bigger than the first one. Just as Dipper was getting used to the process of killing them, the scent of the fish from the cooler set in and he had to stifle gagging. It was hard to gauge how much Bill enjoyed fishing- it was a much different process than hunting, but it seemed like he was pleased with himself and having fun. Dipper wondered if he would have been irritated at having worse luck- then again, he didn't know how much of fishing was luck and how much was skill and patience- especially here of all places.

"Water flows out of here, but I don't really know where it goes." Bill frowned. "I mean, I guess maybe it flows into the other lake. Yeah, that's it." He seemed like he didn't quite know what he was talking about, but Dipper didn't consider the water flow before. He didn't know where the creek led either. Maybe they'd follow it one day, maybe it would lead to his escape. It had to lead somewhere.

A few minutes passed in silence. The sun was going down, and as it did, the air grew colder.

"I usually have better luck hunting too, just so you know." Bill frowned as he stared out into the water, waiting for another tug on the line. "So it's kind of embarrassing to have such bad luck now, I mean, as I have had lately."

Dipper didn't question the hunter's skill at all- it seemed less like bad luck or lack of skill, and more like the elements fighting back. Dipper wondered what a successful hunting trip would look like for Bill- or even finding larger game in the traps he set and routinely checked in the morning. If he got a clean kill and wanted to preserve the body, how would he bring it back home, or would he do something with it on the spot? Dipper was usually still sleeping when the hunter presumably got back from checking, he didn't know what kind of luck Bill had with them as opposed to going out and hunting himself. He told himself he'd make a point of asking him when he was awake- assuming the hunter seemed to be in a talking mood. He had nothing to lose by feigning interest in his captor's activities, and it could pay off eventually. Perhaps he could also start waking up early to greet his captor when he'd come back home. He could even have coffee waiting. Maybe he could prepare food too.

"So... is it because of me? I mean, would you have better luck if I wasn't here?" It struck Dipper as a risky question to ask, but one without a right or wrong answer. Regardless of if Dipper's presence interfered with Bill's hunting, it wouldn't change the fact that he'd be going with the hunter on the trips.

"Maybe. Well probably." Bill shrugged, a calm and amused smile on his face as he reeled in another fish. If Dipper held his breath for the duration of the process, he was otherwise desensitized to it. Eating them might still be a struggle.

"Well, I can stay home while y-"

"No."

If Dipper would have thought twice he wouldn't have said it. It sounded more suspicious than he meant it to. He wished Bill would have laughed or something when he shot Dipper down, it was hard to read him otherwise. He could be on thin ice again.

Bill reeled in his line and put his rod down, picking up the paddles and reversing the boat.

"Getting dark. This was nice." He sighed as he started to guide them back home. The wind started to pick up, Dipper was taken aback by how cold it got as the sun went down. With every gust of wind he'd brace himself, holding his arms and trying not to show discomfort. It would be a while until they got back, manual paddling wasn't exactly quick, and Bill didn't seem to be in a hurry. Bill apparently caught on to Dipper, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't do a good job of ignoring the cold.

"You're at least bringing a scarf next time we go out after dark. It's not even that cold. Maybe it's the moisture in the air." Bill stopped paddling, pausing and waiting a moment for the boat to stay moderately stationary before setting the ores down in the water, letting them float next to the canoe. He unbuttoned his jacked and yanked it off, holding it in front of Dipper.

"Oh, no, I'm fine, don't worry." Dipper nervously reached out for one of the ores to make sure it didn't drift from the boat- which it was definitely _not_ doing- but it was the only thing he could think of doing to distract himself. Bill continued to hold the jacket in front of Dipper. Eventually he gave in and took it, awkwardly putting it on and buttoning it, avoiding looking in the hunter's direction as he resumed rowing them back home without another word.

The inside lining was very warm- Bill must have been warm. Either that or Dipper was abnormally cold. It was a little big on him, despite fitting fine on the hunter- they did have similar body types. Bill was skinnier, somewhat lanky, but Dipper was slightly smaller overall.

After Dipper's transformation, shirts were a bit uncomfortable to wear. At first, his new body type kept them from fitting correctly, causing them to ride up in back. Then the horns grew in, which made it all but impossible. Along with this though, he found he was able to withstand extreme temperatures easier- he wasn't immune to them, but being unable to dress properly proved to not be as much of a burden as he initially thought it would be. He was probably just as resistant to temperatures as he had been, but it just plain got cold near water at night. As Bill brought up before, it could have just been the humidity. Nothing to worry about.

Dipper wondered if his horns had grown larger since he'd gotten here. It was hard to tell. He shifted awkwardly.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, I'm not taking care of you if you catch yourself a cold. Especially if you bring it upon yourself. I have a hard enough time taking care of just myself." Bill turned his head and looked behind himself as he rowed, staring out to where they were fishing before. His rowing slowed as if he were distracted- Dipper moved his head to look around Bill, but didn't see anything himself.

"Is something out there?" Dipper was more than happy to change the subject. Bill was silent for a few moments before turning back around to answer.

"No," He answered curtly, resuming rowing. "wouldn't you have heard or seen it? You've got good hearing, don't you?"

"I heard nothing."

"Well then I guess nothing is there then."

By the time they got back it was near dark. The rest of the trip back wasn't as hard on Dipper since Bill gave him his jacket- it was kind of nice. It was nice to do something that had little or no risk, it meant he could relax to at least some degree. Bill had seemed fine without his jacket- then again rowing must have been some work, or Dipper assumed so anyway, as he'd never done it himself. Bill probably didn't need his jacket, which was for the best, because Dipper couldn't picture him making any sort of personal sacrifice for Dipper's well being unless he had a reason.

They carefully tied the boat back up next to the dock and headed inside.

Bill started up the stove and went to cooking dinner. Dipper offered help, Bill insisted there wasn't enough room in the kitchen for two people to work. Sometimes there was enough room and sometimes there wasn't, but the amount of room always stayed the same. Dipper didn't question it.

Bill was cooking up some sort of meat- over time, Dipper realized he'd rather not wonder what kind. On second thought, he was glad that the hunter rejected his help cooking. He was surprised Bill wasn't taking the opportunity to cook up the fish they'd caught, as he didn't seem like the type who would take the time to clean and de-bone them before cooking them. Maybe there were other things that needed to be done to them first- Dipper didn't know much about fresh food preparation, and fresh food preparation didn't seem to happen often.

Only after looking in the bathroom mirror did Dipper realize he was still wearing Bill's coat. After routinely cleaning up Bill's mess in the bathroom, he took the jacket off and folded it up neatly. By this point he realized Bill had never commented on Dipper cleaning the bathroom for him- at first Dipper was worried Bill might find it offensive, but he either didn't care or didn't notice. Probably the best case scenario.

He left the bathroom and placed the folded jacket on the top of the sofa. Bill handed him a plate of some sort of breaded meat and what looked like rehydrated beans, which he took over to the coffee table after thanking him for the meal. To his surprise, Bill also came over and sat down on the opposite side of the table with his plate. Dipper stared at him for a moment without noticing, before Bill noticed and raised his eyebrows.

"What, is this okay?"

Though Dipper couldn't very well say no or contest, Bill asking for reassurance that it was alright for him to sit down was more comforting than him doing it without saying anything. Still, Dipper hoped it wasn't a permanent change. It wasn't the worst thing, but it made him very self conscious about how he ate, even if Bill had worse eating habits than he did.

The meat wasn't bad, but he couldn't tell what it was, which was for the best. Dipper wished he hadn't noticed, but it seemed like Bill was pacing himself to eat no quicker than Dipper. He didn't look at the hunter as they ate, but he felt like the hunter was staring at him as he ate. When they were done, Bill grabbed both their plates and brought them out to the kitchen, placing them in the sink before clutching his head and yawning.

"I'm going to go ahead and go get some sleep. Bit of a headache coming on." Bill looked out the window curiously before heading for the hallway.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure, it's just a headache, kid." He answered, amused, as he headed for his room. "Night."

"Good night."

Dipper decided to retire to his room as well, not that he really had a choice. While not tired, he was very relaxed. He laid down in his blankets, looking up out the small window in the wall. A clear night, while not uncommon, he didn't find he admired the sky often. He decided he'd find the time to look at the sky through a bigger window some night, but not tonight.

Despite it being well past dark, the brightness from the moon eventually got to Dipper and he turned his head to face away from it, closing his eyes, only to open them moments later when he realized he'd become lost in thought. It was still relatively early, the skies were clear, it was easy to see outside. His captor had gone to bed early.

It was a good time to plan an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo hee hoo hee hoo hee hoo


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper makes a mistake but realizes it's a mistake very quickly-- also a little bit from Bill's perspective

 

 

Why now seemed like a opportune time for the cervitaur to escape was unclear- honestly, he had nothing to lose by waiting until a better time. Things were alright now, he wasn't in direct danger and he'd benefit from gaining the hunter's trust more before he risked losing it.

It was a cocky and impulsive situation that he had not thought through. He waited a small amount of time in silence before getting up from his mattress, quietly approaching the door and pressing his ear to it to listen for any noise.

Nothing could be heard. Unfortunately, not as much time had passed as he thought. After a few more minutes of waiting just in case, he slowly and carefully opened the door.

The lights were off. Even though Dipper had not heard the hunter after he shut himself in his room, he half expected to see him in the kitchen anyway, but there was nothing and no one. The light from the moon was bright enough where Dipper could make his way around with no problem. Without a sound, he slowly made his way to the living room. He'd briefly contemplated whether or not he should have shut his door after him, but decided he didn't want to risk the noise it could cause.

Bill's jacket was still folded on top of the sofa where Dipper had put it before. He picked it up and briefly thought about taking it with him in case it was cold. Hesitantly, he held it up to his face and inhaled.

Maybe leaving wasn't the best idea. Then again, if something were to go wrong he could take his chances coming back. He didn't know where he'd be going other than _away from here._ He had no idea of how far it was to civilization, to anyone who could help him. He may not get the chance to find out other than now- or maybe over time, Bill would bring him closer to the answer.

As Dipper grew unsure of himself, he put Bill's coat back down and paced back and forth a few times before stopping at the front door. A quiet clicking sound was followed by the kitchen light flickering on.

A tired looking Bill stood between kitchen and living room, in casual sweat pants and a plain tank top. It took him a few seconds to register the cervitaur's presence as his visible weariness disappeared and was replaced with genuine surprise. As he took a step forward, Dipper's fight or flight response kicked in in self defense and he bolted out the front door before waiting for what response Bill would have had for him.

The panicked cervitaur had half been expecting some sort of retaliation once he'd been out the door, either the captor in his pursuit, or some sort of verbal queue to keep running or to come back, but there was nothing from what he could tell. It was a thoughtless decision that would have been against his will did he stop to think about it. Running was more of an instinct than a choice this time. He looked behind him and slowed down when he realized that he was alone, he hadn't been followed.

He hadn't gone far enough where the cabin had been out of sight, but he was probably out of sight to the hunter. Calming down slightly after he stopped running, he realized what a bad idea leaving was. If he would have had a minute more to think about it before he left, he wouldn't have done it- but it was too late to consider what he could have done, what could he do now?

He could keep going, braving the elements into the potentially unknown, not knowing if he was going further into the forest or farther away from it. He could risk being caught in another animal trap, bound to face extreme humiliation upon Bill finding him- or much worse. There were natural predators to consider as well- as he'd experienced first hand multiple times he was not near the top of the food chain any more. Bill wasn't here for him to fall back on if something went wrong this time either, though it was hard to gauge what situations he saved Dipper from and what situations he'd caused himself.

He could go back and try to diffuse the situation, but he'd have to do that quickly and carefully, ready and willing to take whatever punishment his captor would have for him when he returned. If he were to return and try to patch things up, he'd have to do it quick, and maybe he could justify himself and lessen whatever punishment would be waiting for him.

He carefully but prominently headed back, out of the forest and into the clearing. The light inside was still on, but he saw no movement in the cabin. He didn't know what the best case scenario would be, but first and formost he knew he wanted to avoid surprising the hunter. He wasn't going to try to sneak back into his room on the off chance the hunter had forgotten or did not register what happened before. The best situation Dipper could hope for was that the hunter was drunk and wouldn't remember this. As he approached the door, he paused for a moment, realizing he had planned on having an alibi ready by the time he got back. He didn't.

Dipper opened the door at the same time Bill was coming down the stairs, zipping up a brown winter jacket Dipper hadn't seen him wearing before. Bill didn't notice Dipper until he heard the close the door behind him, then looked behind himself for a moment before hastily taking his jacket off. He looked back at Dipper, a mix of surprised and confused, which was better than Dipper could have hoped for. Dipper inhaled and tried to hold eye contact with the hunter for a few seconds, trying to silently reason with him, trying to convey that he was harmless. Eventually he broke eye contact and awkwardly looked to the side, exhaling, hoping some sort of excuse would come to him. Bill slowly lifted his arm and pointed in the direction of the cervitaur, who couldn't tell if the hunter was pointing directly at him or behind him instead.

"What was that?" Bill's voice shook slightly halfway through the question.

"I didn't mean to, I don't know what came over me." Dipper had to consciously try to steady his voice as he went on. Bill watched with moderately stoic amusement. It was hard to read him, hard to tell if he was angry, but at least he was giving Dipper the opportunity to explain himself. Unfortunately there was nothing to explain, but Bill waited for him to continue anyway.

"... I mean, I came back. I really didn't mean to leave." It was the truth, but had he more time to think of something more convincing, he would have done that. Bill let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the side of his head, hanging his coat on the railing at the top of the stairs, looking visibly relieved.

"You know it's dangerous out there, right?"

"Well... yes? I wasn't thinking. I came right back."

"Especially if you don't know where you are or where you're going." Bill continued down the stairs and into the kitchen, holding his arms up as if to signify he wasn't going to touch the cervitaur. He got a glass down from one of the cabinets before continuing.

"Well, what if you got hurt? Alone, in the middle of the night? Honestly, kid."

Dipper didn't know how to react because he was expecting an entirely different situation. This was favorable, but the cervitaur was also overcome with an unexplainable guilt by it. Bill got something down from the liquor cabinet as Dipper struggled to come up with an excuse or any rebuttal at all. It almost seemed like he'd been worried about the cervitaur, but that wasn't a likely reality. The thought was dismissed as quickly as it had come.

"Granted I would have had a look around for you, but what if something else found you first? There's worse things out there than you've seen."

Dipper was skeptical about the statement for a moment before he considered the legitimacy of it. Were it any other forest, he would have seen it all by now, but now he wasn't too sure.

"I'm sorry. I won't do it again." Dipper's voice cracked and he shook his head slightly, unable to offer any more words than that. He had planned to come back to a situation much different and worse than this- but maybe the worst was yet to come.

"You _shouldn't_ do it again, it was stupid. Don't act like an animal if you don't want to be treated like one." Bill turned away and retreated back to his room with his bottle, turning the light off behind him. Dipper noted how softly he'd close his door when he wanted to, so now it made sense why he didn't hear Bill exit his room earlier. He was very quiet and stealthy when he wanted to be. Dipper would have to learn to be even stealthier.

If Dipper wasn't overwhelmed with the reality that he'd be facing the consequences of this tomorrow, he would have been more than relieved over the relative calmness of the situation and how easily it was diffused. Instead the hunter was drawing out the situation, whether he meant to or not, where Dipper would have rather had it all over and done with now. That's why he was so quick to come back after he realized his mistake- but instead now the situation would be left to simmer.

Dipper's head cleared a little once he was left alone. He considered seeing if the hunter would be willing to talk it over with him- there wasn't much to say, but any kind of reassurance would help him sleep tonight and be welcome to him.

Dipper carefully walked down the hallway to Bill's room, the room to the left of his. He stood outside it for a moment and and considered what he could tell Bill without escalating the situation. A step ahead of himself, he knocked lightly on the door, despite not being mentally ready to do so.

"Bill?" He spoke quietly, but was sure he could be heard if anyone were there to hear him. There was a pause.

"It's fine, go to bed." Bill's voice was a little muffled.

"Are we okay? I know it's dangerous out there. I didn't mean to run. I came back because I know it's safe here." Dipper waited for a reply, but none came.

"Goodnight, then." He was satisfied with his explanation. He didn't truly know if he was safer here than in the forest, but it was best if the hunter thought he felt safe here. He didn't know if there was any sincerity to the words he'd spoken from outside Bill's door not a moment ago. He quietly headed off to his room. Though he left the door open when he had left, he realized it had been shut between then and now. Nothing seemed out of place in his room.

Bill coughed into his pillow and tried to stop thinking- tried to shut off his thought processes so he could get an hour of sleep. The sooner he could get to sleep, the sooner he could wake up. Despite the night's events, he was able to find some peace in the fact that he was learning to restrain himself from violent impulses. He wasn't actually prepared for the cervitaur to take matters into his own hands. He wasn't sure how to handle the situation that just unfolded, but he was pleased with himself for being able to disguise his mild panic as concern for the cervitaur. He had a lot of thinking and planning to do, but that could be saved for tomorrow while he was out and about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry for the hiatus I am very bad at balancing writing and art stuff but hopefully I will get back in the swing of things. This one's a bit short for such a long hiatus but it gets the job done!


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Dipper start a trek to somewhere they haven't been

Dipper sensed he'd woken up on the early side- it was light enough to see outside though, and he'd had enough difficulty sleeping where he figured it was late enough to stay up. Though his night was uninterrupted, he was still on edge so much so that the smallest noise during the night would jolt him awake. However, he woke up in the morning on his own accord- he hadn't heard the hunter at all, hadn't heard any noise from in the house. He hadn't heard anything. The hunter must still be sleeping.

Though the lack of a decent night's sleep didn't mean much to Dipper, it did leave him with a horrible ringing headache as he got up and attempted to stretch. He realized he'd been in generally good health since he'd been taken here, at least in some regards. He waited a short amount of time before carefully leaving his room.

Bill was either out, or still sleeping- it was hard to tell which, especially when he seemingly didn't always bring his gear with him. Chances were he was out, which was normal, but the recent events made Dipper a bit wary and unsure.

He waited a while, trying to get comfortable and enjoy being alone, but the stillness was foreboding and worrying. Time passed a lot slower than Dipper imagined it was. The uncertainty left him feeling restless and defenseless. His headache still nagged at him.

He opened the fridge and peered in. He saw the same old, bags of unmarked and uncooked meat. Most were indistinguishable to Dipper, there were bags with very pale and light meat- some bags on the other side of the spectrum, very dark brown, dark red. He noticed some of the bags were marked with "caught on" and "use by" dates- but still none marked by what animal they were taken from.

Curiously, some bags packed in the back were marked differently. " _Destroy if not used by expiration date_ ". It confused the certvitaur for a moment before he became distracted by the thought that it probably meant that even Bill would not eat or serve spoiled food. That could only be a good thing.

Still feeling restless, the cervitaur took the opportunity to clean around the kitchen and disinfect the counter and table. He came to the conclusion Bill must be out rather than sleeping, but he wasn't going to try and check. It must have been around noon. His headache was gone by now, cured on its own accord.

He cleaned the bathroom as he routinely did. He had come to the conclusion that it was alright to clean, so long as he did not bring the mess up to Bill. He hadn't made the mistake of doing so, but he imagined the hunter wouldn't take kindly to Dipper insinuating a lack of hygene, and so he'd clean when he was alone, avoiding the problem altogether.

He'd considered putting on a pot of coffee so that it would be prepared when Bill came back, but since it was difficult to gauge when he'd come back, he figured he'd wait until he saw the hunter outside and put it on then.

Dipper glanced out of the front window- and as if on queue, the hunter appeared from the edge of the forest, something large slung over his shoulder, some sort of animal presumably, and holding a bag with his opposite hand. Dipper put on the coffee and looked outside again, hoping whatever he had with him would be left outside. He felt some sense of contentedness- if the hunter had come back with a catch, he'd probably be coming back happy. He took a rag to the kitchen counter to make himself look busy, though he'd cleaned it before.

A knock on the door symboled that the hunter probably did not have a spare hand to open it, and meant whatever animal he'd caught was coming in the house with him. Dipper opened the door for him and moved out of his way. As suspected, Bill brought in with him a presumably dead deer. Upon further inspection it looked to be a doe, fully grown, quite large compared to what Dipper was used to seeing. It had an incision leading around its entire neck and slightly down its side.

Looking to be out of breath, the hunter kicked the door shut behind him and dropped the deer down onto the table- the table that Dipper had just disinfected. He leaned over the table for a few moments, trying to catch his breath- then stretched, his back audibly cracking. He turned to Dipper and raised his eyebrows, happily gesturing to the dead creature on the table.

"Look at her. She's huge! She's as big as you. Maybe bigger." He glanced back at the doe. Dipper reflected on the fact that Bill had definitely carried more than his own body weight on several occasions, usually without breaking a sweat. Bill turned back around to examine the doe, lifting up its head to get a good look it at- it was then Dipper realized the head had been mangled, most noticably around the muzzle, but other than that it did not look to have any wounds. No gun wounds, she was in pristine condition aside from the head- and the incision around her neck. Bill looked back at Dipper and nodded as if they were thinking the same thing.

"I know- I don't really know what happened here either. It's sort of a shame, the pelt would have been a real trophy with the head in tact. I was going to skin her while I was out, maybe leave the pelt out in the forest, maybe not, it could make a nice rug. I mean, it's not as nice as your pelt, but it could have its uses."

Dipper inhaled sharply but quietly, unable to bring himself to pretend to enjoy the comments Bill made about him. Bill sighed and pulled his coat off, revealing the tank he wore under it had an awful lot of blood stains on both sides of it. The deer did not appear to have bled out, so it probably was not the deer's blood. Dipper was unsure if he should acknowledge it or if he should ignore it- unidentifiable blood was not new to him, but slightly worrying nonetheless. Bill hung up his coat up by the door before acknowledging that Dipper had put on a pot of coffee for him.

"Oh, when did you put this on? I woke up early. I could use this." Bill fixed himself a cup and tipped the pot in Dipper's direction as if to acknowledge the gesture.

Dipper forced a small smile in empathy before answering. "I put it on when I saw you outside."

"What, so you were staring out the window waiting for me like a dog?" Bill chuckled to himself and looked out the kitchen window. The scent of the doe was noticable now- it wasn't awful, but the smell paired with the sight of the dead animal laying across the kitchen table was less than ideal.

"Well, I was in the kitchen cleaning and looked out the window." Dipper wasn't sure if he should have drawn out the conversation further or given a response to it.

"So the kitchen's not clean enough for you? It wasn't clean before?" He glanced at Dipper without turning his head as if to gauge how uncomfortable he was making the cervitaur. Dipper kept his mouth shut at the risk of digging himself a deeper hole. Sometimes he could give simple answers and Bill was alright with it, other times he'd be grilled for responding at all. Dipper still hadn't learned how to read him in the slightest and by the looks of it, that's exactly what he wanted. Bill seemed to avoid predicability like the plague. He was powerful as long as he had the element of surprise on his side. He didn't want Dipper to be comfortable around him- at least not yet.

Bill smiled contentedly before turning around to face Dipper. "Wow... anyway, I hope you're well rested, because we're not lounging around today. We're gonna go ahead and take a trip." Dipper's stomach twisted- trips did not end well for either of them. He'd have thought Bill would be sick of them by now as well. Maybe Bill was willing to make himself upset to make Dipper's life harder.

"When? Now?" Dipper glanced at the doe on the table before looking back at Bill, who was leaning against the kitchen counter nonchalantly sipping his coffee, as if he was happily waiting for the cervitaur to react poorly. He nodded once slowly, making it clear that it was a stupid question to ask.

"Well, I mean what about that?" Dipper pointed to the doe on the table. "How long will we be gone? Shouldn't you, you know, package it up? Put it outside?"

"What, so something out there can smell it and trespass on my property? I'll hang it in the basement, it'll be fine. Come on, let's get packed. A few days' supply should be fine. It'll be fun." Bill snapped his fingers and ushered the cervitaur out of the kitchen. He didn't mention where they were going, and Dipper was scared to ask. Be it somewhere new or somewhere they'd been, it probably wasn't going to be a pleasant experience.

 

They packed as they had packed before- tent, sleeping bags, bags had food and emergency supplies in them. Bill slipped some glass bottles into one of his bags at the last minute. Dipper pretended not to notice. Either Bill's alcoholism was getting worse or he did not as as much for hiding it as he used to. Though Dipper could not bring himself to have a genuine care for the hunter's wellbeing, it was concerning, even if it did have its perks. If the hunter wound up drinking himself to sleep, he'd have some peace of mind for a while. Though Bill seemed more passive when drinking, Dipper wouldn't rule out the possibility of him getting angry, and that was a situation Dipper hoped he'd be able to avoid.

It was still afternoon as they finished packing and locked up the house. Bill led the certivaur out the front door before looking around inside one last time and closing the door behind them. It was getting easier to pack as Dipper got used to knowing what they were supposed to bring- that and it seemed his physical strength had been improving. The improvement seemed to be a very recent discovery.

"Alright, so I know where we're going, but I don't know how we're going to get there," Bill carried most of their gear. He stretched up straight and walked slowly to the right of the cabin, squinting as he looked over the lake.

"I want to see what's around that other lake- while I have a good idea of my surroundings, I'm not particularly familiar with all of it. I think it's past the other one and a ways past where we've been before. Actually thinking about it, maybe we should have packed for a few extra days."

Bill stood still for a moment, staring out over the lake.

"Okay, I was going to ask if you wanted to walk to the end of the other lake or take the boat, but I decided we're taking the boat. I mean, we're going to that end one way or another, might as well indulge in some senseless variety."

Bill walked to the boat- still tied up to the dock where they left it, evidently it hadn't been touched since they'd went out. Bill tossed his bags into the middle of it, then gestured for the cervitaur to hand him his bags, which were tossed into the pile in the middle of the boat. Bill carefully stepped in, over their belongings and sat down on the far end, ushering Dipper along after him. Bill pointed to the rope that kept the boat in place, signalling for Dipper to untie it. He clearly favored hand gestures when trying to get the cervitaur to do anything, rather than ask nicely, or ask at all. It worked well enough, but it made Dipper feel like some kind of subservient animal companion at times.

Dipper released the boat from the dock and Bill carefully rowed them out into the open lake.

 

The trip was slow and quiet- Bill didn't seem keen on conversation of any kind, Dipper stared out into the lake, trying to avoid eye contact with the hunter. They were more or less forced to face each other and Dipper didn't want to convey body language that would have led to awkward conversation. Every so often the hunter would stop rowing and look out into the water, as if he heard or saw something, but Dipper did not sense anything out of the ordinary. He'd been led to believe his sense of hearing and sight was more potent than the hunter's, so if he didn't see anything, there was probably nothing there. The most likely possibility was Bill doing it on purpose to see if Dipper would say anything about it, and he wasn't going to.

Dipper came to the conclusion that walking to the end of the lake probably would have been quicker than rowing, but it would have been more difficult and energy consuming as well. Bill had mentioned they were going a ways out- so taking the boat may have just been to conserve energy. The boat trip had been made without any conversation. Sometimes the silence was okay, but it would be unsettling to Dipper if he wasn't sure what was going through the hunter's head. He didn't think much about the previous night's events and had, to a point, almost forgot about what had happened, since it had not been on his mind since he woke up, and Bill had not brought it up or acted upon it negatively.

There was no proper dock on the other side of the lake. Bill eased up on rowing and the boat gently hit shore. He tossed the paddles up onto the land, standing up and carefully getting out of the boat. When Dipper got up to follow, Bill signaled for him to stay where he was- then bent down to drag the boat more securely on land before unloading their gear, then grabbing the cervitaur's wrist and helping him out of the boat. He wasn't sure if it was a kind gesture or Bill insinuating that the cervitaur couldn't have gotten up and out by himself. Bill stretched his arms, then they picked up their gear from the boat. He stared blankly and calmly into the forest for a good half a minute before shaking his head abruptly, as if to wake himself up. He pointed vaguely into the forest and they started their trek in, Dipper obediently following close behind the hunter.

Bits of light made their way through the leaves onto the forest floor. The atmosphere was calmer than Dipper had assumed it would be and so he felt strangely at ease as they went on. The trip was mostly silent so far, but not an awkward kind of silent. He felt as though Bill was preoccupied with his thoughts, or keeping track of where they were, so there was no obligation to fill the silence, nor was there anything to say anyway. It felt safe, though it would probably feel less so as it got dark, and wen they got into less familiar territory. Dipper had been here before, but they were apparently going further into the forest than he had been before.

A very sharp, loud metal snap was followed instantly by an intense surge of pain travelling up Dipper's left hind leg. His vision momentarily went white and he gasped for breath as his leg gave out from under him. He instinctively tried to flee from the source of the pain only to find out he was tethered in place, and in doing so only succeeded in tightening the trap around his leg. If the pain wasn't instantaneous, he probably wouldn't have panicked and made it worse.

The ordeal so far was merely seconds long but felt much longer to the cervitaur. In his struggle he didn't noticed that Bill hadn't noticed what had happened immediately either, and had walked a small distance in the direction they were headed, as if on autopilot. Eventually the situation clicked and he froze and turned around with mild attentiveness.

"Oh jeez, kid, what did you do?" Bill made a brisk walk back to where Dipper was struggling, dropping his gear and awkwardly trying to observe what was wrong. He'd froze for a moment when he saw the cervitaur's leg caught in a leghold trap that he didn't remember placing. He stood there apprehensively for a moment before laughing nervously and kneeling down next to the cervitaur to see what he could do.

Dipper had been silent through the whole ordeal, too panicked to get a grip on the situation. Bill inspected his leg- there was no blood, but the struggling must have caused the trap to tighten and crush the bone to some degree. The trap had two metal levers on either side of it, and holding them down would release the trap and allow whatever was caught in it to free itself.

Bill carefully lifted the trap off the ground a couple inches to get a better grip on it. Dipper instinctively panicked, and tried to get up and get away from the source of the pain, but could not gather the strength to get back up on his legs, so he instead put his hands over his face and tried to curl up.

"Please don't kill me." The cervitaur clearly did not have a firm grip of the situation as he tried his best to make a plea with the hunter, sobbing quietly. He'd had better composure in much worse situations- Bill wondered what caused the difference this time.

"Please calm down, kid. Can you even hear me?" There was genuine concern and confusion in his voice. Once again, he picked up the trap carefully, and with relative ease pressed firmly down on the levers and removed the trap from the cervitaur's leg, then let the trap go and snap shut again. He firmly grasped the cervitaur's front leg, scared that he would instinctively try to run off and injure himself more in the process.

"Kid, you're fine." Bill tried to calm him down so that he wouldn't try to run off and make the injury worse. It was clear he wouldn't be able to run off, but the problem wasn't that, it was the fact his leg was at least fractured and any more recklessness could make it worse before Bill would have a chance to fix it.

Bill decided the best thing to do was to be patient and let the cervitaur get a better grip on the situation. After a few moments, the certivaur seemed to calm down, opening his eyes and becoming visibly less tense. Bill loosened his grip on the cervitaur's leg, but kept hold of it in case Dipper decided he'd rather try to run off.

Bill sighed patiently. Dipper looked up at him alertly, and in response, Bill looked away to avoid eye contact.

"Alright kid, do you know where you are? Who I am?"

Dipper nodded- but Bill waited for an audible response to make sure they were on the same page.

"Bill?" Dipper had trouble talking- he had trouble piecing together what had just happened, and he felt humiliated because of it. As time went on and he calmed down, he'd be able to recollect what happened. He wanted to be treated as a human, and this situation wasn't going to help.

"Okay, you're fine, okay?" Bill's priority was to be very clear with Dipper, to make sure he was calm so he would not try to run off. He made sure to speak clearly and calmly, still holding on to the cervitaur's front leg.

"I mean, yes, you're hurt, but you're going to be okay because I'm going to help you. And you can help yourself by not trying to run off like an animal, because broken legs don't work that way."

Dipper didn't respond, but he was visibly less tense than he was before. Bill observed him for a few seconds before letting go of his leg. He didn't react at first, and then he cringed, and then he tensed up- as if he'd temporarily forgotten the pain he was in only to remember it again. He didn't do anything impulsive, he didn't try to get up or run. He couldn't bring himself to look at his leg- he didn't know if he was bleeding, or if it was mangled, and he didn't want to send himself into another panic.

Bill rummaged through one of his bags and pulled out a roll of gauze. He paused for a moment- he was unprepared for this kind of injury and he knew it, but he'd make do with what he had. So long as Dipper didn't do anything to make his leg worse, he'd heal relatively quickly regardless of if the leg was wrapped. He carefully and firmly wrapped the cloth around the cervitaur's leg. The cervitaur kept his eyes closed, trying to stay still, but twitched in pain every so often- and each time he did, Bill thought he was about to try and run off.

The ordeal was humiliating to Dipper, who wanted badly to believe he was in control of his actions and more human than animal. He had calmed down, and in doing so he'd realized what had just happened. Whether or not the ordeal was planned had not occurred to him, as he was in too much pain to register how Bill had reacted prior to freeing him. From the looks of it, it was an accident, not something Bill had planned out. Bill had gotten nervous but managed to maintain his composure. Dipper was sound enough to be grateful for the help, and the help was enough to signify that the event wasn't planned.

"You can walk on three legs. Right?" Bill paused mid sentence as if to avoid sounding like he was stating fact and avoid coming off as cold as he could have. He stood up and, after looking over the cervitaur's leg again, extended a hand to help him up.

"Okay? You're going to be fine but do not put any weight on your leg, I mean it. And you're not bleeding or nothing so if you muster up the guts to look at what you've done, you're probably not going to get excited."

Dipper begrudgingly opened his eyes- his vision was blurry for a moment before clearing up. He looked back at his leg- not mangled, no blood, all bandaged up. It still hurt, but less than it could have, most likely due to Dipper imagining the pain of accidentally putting more pressure on the leg. He looked up to see Bill patiently waiting to help him get back on his feet. He grabbed his hand. Bill carefully bit firmly helped him to his feet.

"I mean it, you have to stay off the leg. You'll be fine in no time. We'll walk slow."

Dipper expected to struggle more keeping balance than he did, but it was remarkably easier than when he had two legs. Walking would be slower, but managable. Once Bill seemed sure that Dipper could at least stand up alright, he picked up their gear, including what Dipper had carried before, and stretched, as if making it clear that it was not an issue.

"I can carry what I had before, it's no problem."

Bill raised his eyebrows, but otherwise ignored him. He set off in the direction they were headed previous, looking behind him to make sure the cervitaur was able to make an effort to carry on. Pleased with how things were handled, he resumed his calm, placid state.

The trek had slowed down, but not as much as Dipper had assumed it would. Bill had decided to walk beside him patiently, as opposed to walking in front of him as he usually did. It seemed he was trying to make it clear he didn't have any expectations of how quickly they were supposed they were supposed to reach their destination, wherever that was. While Dipper appreciated the hunter's patience, he was sort of hoping that they'd have turned around and went home after the ordeal. Since it seemed that was out of the question, Dipper's mind began to wander. Most likely Bill just wasn't concerned enough about it to consider it an obstacle and go home, but there was always the possibility he'd set up the cervitaur to teach him that the forest was a dangerous place without his close guidance. Maybe he was leading the cervitaur into a well thought out trap where he'd have to beg for help.

Thinking about what could happen distracted Dipper from his injured leg and made walking easier, so long as he could avoid walking on it. He looked over at Bill, who had been silent since their ordeal. He looked tired- more in a relaxed way rather than exhausted. Despite the slowdown, they'd walked fairly far, and with minimal difficulty. It was still light out, and looked like it would be for at least a couple more hours.

Dipper had wondered if Bill had known exactly where they were going- he realized he took for granted that he knew, especially since he usually followed behind him. Bill would guide them where they needed to go. It wasn't as obvious when walking beside him. They had just been going further into the forest in a straight line.

Bill slowed down and looked at Dipper's leg.

"Do you want to take a break? I mean... If I had to guess I'd say we're almost there, honestly."

Dipper felt he was doing alright- he didn't tire as easily as he used to, even given the current circumstances.

"No, I'm okay-" He tried to keep up his pace instead of slowing down when Bill had slowed down as is to prove he was genuine. "But how long do you think it will take to get there? I mean, will we get there before dark?"

"I reckon so."

 

The forest got denser and harder to navigate as they went on. Dipper went back to following behind Bill, who seemed to know where they were going. It was harder to keep track of the direction they were going in. They seemed to take small detours if Bill did not trust Dipper could navigate around a certain area- they'd steer clear of large fell trees and areas with dense brush. There had been next to no wildlife out here- surely there should have been more in areas with no threat, unless there was a threat that they weren't aware of.

To the best of Dipper's knowledge, there was no path to follow- the hunter was leading them based on intuition. It made him wonder where exactly the cabin was- whether it was in the middle of the forest or closer to an edge. What direction would be the quickest way out for him if opportunity truly knocked?

He realized the longer he'd stay, the more of his surroundings the hunter would expose him to. So long as things didn't get worse here, there was relatively small risk in waiting to be more informed. Maybe eventually someone would come to rescue him before he would have a chance to escape.

Dipper found happiness and peace of mind in these thoughts. Things would surely get better before they got worse.

The sun was going down by now. Bill continued to silently guide them.

A ways ahead, a light appeared to shine out of the ground. Bill cautiously tapped Dipper on the shoulder, but Dipper had already seen it too.

As they walked, the forest thinned out a little, giving way to a sizable and very apparent lake. While it was large enough to be hard to miss, the light shining down on it made it much more apparent- did they leave any later, they may have missed it.

Bill looked over at the cervitaur and raised his eyebrows with a sort of genuine hope- Dipper didn't ever doubt that they were lost, but Bill's reaction made him wonder if they were onn the right track all the time.

"Well... that's something, alright," Bill seemed pleased with himself as they reached the lake. It looked to be about the same size as the other one- and was probably fed to the other one. Dipper realized they could have followed the stream from the other lake and wound up here, probably quicker than they had. He looked out, unable to find anywhere that fed in or out of the lake.

"See? Look at that-" Bill gestured out to the lake as he tossed their gear onto the ground. "It's great. Lots of room to set up a camp as well. I bet there's plenty of nice fish here too."

Dipper heard a loud, unnatural snap somewhere to their left along the lake, but saw nothing. He turned to look at Bill to see if he heard anything- but Bill appeared to have either ignored it or had not heard it, and instead stood motionless for a moment before vaguely gesturing to Dipper.

"Alright, you sit and rest, I'll get a camp set up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooo!!! This got very long very quick else I would have cut the chapter off somewhere else. I hope to have more frequent updates from now on.
> 
> Also completely unrelated to this story, originally I was going to have Bill have a dog companion, like a doberman or a wolf (or maybe multiple) that he purposely treated way better than Dipper... but ultimately I decided I didn't want a dog companion to take away from the importance of the rest of the story, since it would have been an insignificant addition!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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